A Mate's Sin
by aspentree11
Summary: Takes place at the end of A Court of Thorns and Roses. What if Rhysand had taken her after finding out she was his mate? What if his impulses took control faster than his mind had?
1. Chapter 1

_What do you want?_

"Just to say goodbye." It came out of me breathlessly, with my hands digging into my pockets anxiously and trying my best not to look her in the eyes. But standing out there, only with her and without having to force the darkness in my voice, I couldn't stop myself from being selfish. Because, frankly, the more I looked at her, the more I saw. Now that we weren't in the mountain and I didn't have to see Tamlin's stupid face, I felt like there was no strings holding us back. _I wanted her_ – it wasn't a question. Maybe, just maybe, if I could get out of that damned mountain, than someone loving me is possible too. I could even see a life with her, a child or two. Mor would like her, Cassian would probably hit on her, Amren would admire her strength and Az could understand why I liked her within a milisecond. I could see her living with me, smiling at me, making pancakes with me and laughing with my family. Her snarkiness, her would fit in so perfectly that it was practically unnerving. And for the first time, I could imagine her in love with me. That the possibility was there. Just by looking in her eyes, which no longer seemed resentful of me, I could finally imagine.

But then I added the catch, the one thing that broke all of those dreams and only left me with nightmares, "Before your beloved whisks you away forever." _Forever._ I couldn't imagine not seeing her forever.

"Not forever," she said, as if she could hear the voice in my head. She wiggled her tattoo sarcastically. "Don't you get a week every month?" And maybe I should've told her that it wasn't enough, not for me. Even if she'd never love me, and I could somehow push my love for her down, it wasn't enough. I was too selfish - too greedy to share. I needed more.

"How could I forget?" I said, playing a small smile on my lips, though strained. But she had to see the pain, the soon to come truth that I would in fact release her of our bargain as soon as I could stomach it. When it came down to it, I didn't want her. Not like this.

As the silence deepened,I felt like that was my farewell – because how could I say goodbye? She was what woke me up. There would never be a goodbye with her. Not really. But as I was just about to step on my heel, her voice pulled me back.

"Why?" She asked abruptly. I hesitated for just a moment, feeling like I couldn't speak as I rose my eyebrows. There was a thousand answers to her question, and I knew the safe answer. The answer that would leave my farewell amicable, maybe even forgotten.

"Because when the legends get written, I didn't want to be remembered for standing on the sidelines. I want my future offspring to know that I was there, and that I fought against her at the end, even if I couldn't do anything useful." It wasn't necessarily a lie, but the answer was so much simpler, and it ran off my tongue before I could stop it:

"Because I didn't want you to fight alone. Or die alone." Her face shifted for a moment, as if my words sparked something in her mind. Like she understood it. She realized how, in the end, we weren't too different. That maybe I wasn't too bad of a guy.

Maybe I had a chance.

"Thank you," she whispered, the words falling off her red lips. I smiled, a feeling of warmth exploding in my body, but I couldn't help but wonder if this would be the last time she ever said thank you to me. Because there was so much that she didn't know.

"I doubt you'll be saying that when I take you to the Night Court," I said honestly, with a hint of bitterness. Because if I took her like that, like I promised, like some item, she would hate me. Like she was some piece that I won. I wasn't like Tamlin. I'd never be like Tamlin. I didn't want this bargain to be the only way she saw me. I wanted her to want me.

"Are you going to fly home?" She added wistfully, looking at the sky as if she was dying to know what was past Tamlin's estate once she got back, and wondering if she would ever know. I bit my lip, suddenly curious on whether or not she would enjoy flying. Was being set free what she needed? Or did she have enough adventure for a life time? Would she ever be strong enough to live again?

"Unfortunately, it would take longer than I can afford. Another day, I'll taste the skies again." She tilted her head curiously, her grey-blue eyes twinkling.

"You never told me you loved the wings – or the flying." My eyes lit up instantly, thinking of the idea of soaring around with her right now, my imagination running. She was nearly testing me to swoop her up and leave with her as I heard the aching of something new, give her the opportunity to abandon the boring, placid life that Tamlin wants to enforce into her. But I knew the cost. And the costs were too great.

"Everything I love has always had a tendency to be taken from me. I tell very few about the wings. Or the flying." My family, full of outcasts and estranged miracles, blared in my mind suddenly – they were probably waiting for me right now. I had spent fifty years dying to see them again, committing acts worse than death just to remember them, but now that I was finally free they seemed to have disappeared from my mind. Probably wondering why the hell I hadn't come back yet. But I couldn't leave without seeing if there was even the slightest chance she would be happy. Even though the guilt was hitting me like a bomb, I didn't want her being haunted by her past like I'll always be. I wanted to make sure, before I leave, that she'll be okay.

And she didn't look okay. Even though she had been starved under that mountain and had nearly died of madness, she looked more like death than I had ever seen her. Her eyes, filled with sadness and self-hatred, drained the color from her face and it made me wonder if her body - now simply skin and bones - would ever recover. Was she correct all along? Could Tamlin's love cure her troubles? Would immortality save her?

"How does it feel to be High Fae?" I asked, trying to keep my sentences short, and forcing myself not to let out too much. I couldn't let myself get more attached. I had a life, and she had her's.

But she looked down at herself, as if lost already, "I'm an immortal-who has been mortal. This _body_ -" She said in such disgust that I nearly cringed. "This body is different, but this-" Her heart, her beautiful strong heart. "This is still human. Maybe it always will be. But it would have been easier to live with it...easier to live with what I did if my heart had changed, too. Maybe I wouldn't care so much; maybe I could convince myself their deaths weren't in vain. Maybe immortality will take that away. I can't tell whether I want it to."

I was stuck there. My mouth opened, waiting for myself to leave with a mocking retort, but I had never heard someone ever put that feeling into words. The feeling of murdering someone that you would never be allowed to grieve, to walk away and know that one day you'll have to kill another. And even if that person was awful, we weren't God. It shouldn't be our choice who lives and who dies. We shouldn't have that kind've power, mortal or not.

And in a way, I was a bit envious. The illyarians forced us to suppress that feeling, to pretend it didn't exist. When, in the end, it was the only thing I felt some days.

"Be glad of your human heart, Feyre. Pity those who don't feel anything at all." Her eyes flashed, but there was nothing. It seemed like she wanted to argue, but arguing with me was useless. Whatever she felt, whatever she thought she needed, has the ability to change.

"Well, goodbye for now," I said, bowing to her. I stepped back, but then I locked onto her eyes too hard. Fully. My eyes connecting with the blue-grey landscape that suddenly everything - her sadness, her anxiety, her whistfullness. And even though I felt the bargain trickle across my arm, I had never felt her emotions so deep. _I had never seen it_. My selfishness took over and suddenly I was stuck on her. My body, frozen yet emotion was pouring over me so fast that I inhaled raggedly. I couldn't move - how could I walk away? Why couldn't I walk away? She was just a girl. I had been in love with others in the past, small spurts and infatuations, but there have been times where I thought I had been in love. How this any different? It was fake, my own desperation pulling me towards her, a facade.

But then the words, like a whisper, hit me. _Shes my mate_.

My mate, my eternal, immortal mate. Connecting us, like a thin yet indestructible string pulling us together. The mate that was designed for me, the reason I couldn't stop loving her even though she hated me. The way I always watched he every step, her every glance when she walked into the room, the only person that ever made me wonder if there was more than just a Cauldron in this world. The reason why she was _glowing_ in front of me, My _mate_. She truly was my mate, I could feel it - not just in my heart, but all over me. In ever wound that I had ever endured, every injury that I got through battle, training and pain, I could feel her heart beating. It was like she was filling me up. It was like she was healing me.

And yet she, within a day, would be living in my second-most enemy's bed, making love to him, being his utter possession, doing anything and everything he wanted simply because her heart, damaged and weak, loved him. Being reduced to practically nothing - being reduced to nothing more than my mother was with her fragile, vulnerable wings. And she didn't even know it yet. But if she felt me, if I told her and she accepted my offering - my mate...

 _You have to walk away_ , I told myself. _You ruined it. She'll never be yours. Now walk away._

 _Walk away, Rhysand._ I heard Amren saying it in my head, Cassien saying it, Az saying it, even Mor saying it. All of them, my comrades, telling me to walk away because I knew thats what they would do. Because people like us, outsiders and pariahs, weren't meant to be in love. It was against the rules.

But then I felt my hand grab her, knowing that I shouldn't left. I missed my second. I had a second to walk away, and now I couldn't do it.

"I'm so sorry," I said to her, before grabbing her and winnowing away.

~discidium~

When I got to the house, Mor was sitting on the couch. She lifted her face and looked at me blankly, but then liveliness kicked into her eyes - realization. I was alive and free. Her High Lord, her best friend, was back. She jumped to her feet, staring at me at a distance in awe. I wanted to take in every detail of her, just like she was taking in every detail of me, but then I looked down at the gangly girl, her eyes closed from passing out from the harsh winnowing. I began to get dizzy. My eyes, which probably stopped Mor from embracing me, were dancing all around me madly, unable to focus.

"Rhysand..."

 _I was in my house. Feyre was in my arms. I was free._

"Mor. _Mor_. I did something bad," I said, heaving. Her face had drained white and she looked like she may puke herself, but for all the wrong reasons. She didn't know the sins I had committed yet, what treacheries I had done. She took a small step towards me, but she was still taking me in. She couldn't believe it. Maybe even fearful. "Oh fuck, I did something really bad."

"Fifty years..." She whispered. "Fifty years and-"

"I took her, I accidentally took her," I said fast, my hands shaking. "Mor. Mor!" Finally, her eyes tore away and she looked at the girl in my arms, as if waking up from a dream. Obviously, Mor hadn't seen her at all, she was too occupied staring at me to see what I had been carrying.

"Is she dead?" She asked in a too-soft voice, eyeing the wounds and starvation on not only her but me as well. I shook my head, feeling like I may puke now. "Who is she? Rhys, who the hell is she?! RHYS!" My lips were trembling.

"She's my mate. _My mate_ ," I said, loudly now. "And a lover. Tamlin's lover. I...I think I stole her."

 _ **OKAY. This is a rough beginning but I wanted to see if it hit off. Review if you want more or whatever.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**I am so very sorry for all the grammatical errors in the previous chapter. I rewrote the entire thing at like two in the morning so there's a few stupid errors, though there'll probably be a lot of stupid errors in this chapter as well.**

"She will understand." She wouldn't understand. She certainly wouldn't understand.

"I mean, you _are_ her mate. She will get that. She can't really choose Tamlin over her own mate, can she? He's so…melodramatic." I shook my head at her fast.

"I told you what I did to her. _Twice_. She won't forgive that. And, I'm assuming Tamlin never really explained the beauty of the mate connection after he practically tried raping her after the Calanmai and blamed it on the mating ceremony instead of taking responsibility for his actions," I said bitterly. Mor rolled her eyes. "Trust me, being my 'mate' probably won't attract her at all."

"Then tell her _everything_ , then," Mor said, her hands on her hips. "You said you didn't want to imprison her here. You said it was wrong. So give her the option. Don't just send her back. She's not stupid, you know. She's not a child. If you're right – if she really went through what you say, she won't fancy being trapped in the countryside with Mr. Mastering-The-Art-of-Being-Useless." I threw my hands in the air angrily, black wisps of smoke rising from my fingers.

"I have to. I don't have a choice. She thinks she's in love with Tamlin," I said, but then the pain ached in my voice when I looked down. _Maybe she really was._ "But, I'll let her wake up first." I had laid her on the couch after Mor had calmed me down and tucked a warm blanket over her. I tried to give her some distance, a few feet away, but I couldn't stop looking at her.

"I never liked Tamlin, you know. He tried flirting with me once at a ball, and maybe I don't have a thing for blonde guys but he lacked personality to no end. Absolutely boring."

"And morals," I added, coolness dripping from my voice. "He'll break her, you know. You didn't see her under that mountain. She was invincible – stronger than any warrior that I have seen in centuries. It'll intimidate him. He'll push it out of her." When I looked back at Mor, her eyes were gleaming with emotions. I could tell I hit a spot, maybe a spot I shouldn't have hit. While only a moment ago, she was staring at Feyre like she was a broken doll, she was now looking at her with desperation.

"Fay-Ruh. _Beautiful_ ," she whispered. "You can't let her go, Rhys. You at least have to give her a shot. She'll die there. Trust me, I know the feeling." I could feel her stare as I daringly stroked Feyre's cheek, her skin cold as ice.

"You really love her," Mor said aloud, almost in disbelief. "It's not just the mating, you love her too." I looked at her, my eyes burning.

"Yes, I do," I said in a small voice. "I've lost everything and she saved me. I don't want to lose her. Especially to Tamlin."

"Well, you have three options then. You can send her back to Tamlin's stupid estate and risk her being emotionally abused," Mor said, though she said it in such a tone that she forbade it. "You can, on the other hand, tell her everything and maybe, just maybe, she'll understand. Or, you can take away some of the emotion she has towards you. Just manipulate her mind for a millisecond and take away the so-called hatred that you swear she has for you, so that she'll trust you when you say that you're her mate." I looked at her, half in disgust and half in surprise that Mor, of all people, condoned mind manipulation. She shrugged casually, though my look was piercing.

"If it takes her away from the situation than it's worth it," She said. "Take it from a person who has gone through it. Sometimes bad things have to be done to reach tranquility." I had to stop myself from saying anything cruel.

"You know, you always had this thing of underestimating yourself," she went on. "You are loveable, Rhysand. I love you, Azriel loves you, Cass loves you, Amren loves you. Your people love you. Boo-fucking-hoo. You did some bad things. We all have. Who says she won't forgive you?" As I looked at her, my eyes reaching for an answer, an idea rang in my head.

"I have an idea," I said, my voice shaking. "But I need your help."

~discidium~

"You fucking kidnapped me." Her words echoed through the house loudly, shaking me awake. It was probably three in the morning, and she had finally awoken from her beautiful state of sleep. I, on the other hand, chose to take the smarter path – falling asleep in the recliner only a few feet away from her, just in case she tried to plotting a way to kill me. I figured she might-as-well have her one shot at the ordeal, hoping that maybe it would get the anger out of her. But now she was hovering on top of me, glowering in anger, probably already deciding that death was too merciful for me.

I rubbed my eyes tiredly, trying to convince myself that my heartbeat wasn't going fast.

"Oh, Feyre, darling, you're awake," I said, a lazy smile on my face. "As much as I love you waking me up like this-" I glanced at her thin nightgown, now shriveled and breezing up, "-I think we both are too tired to play, agreed?" Her hands, wrapped in tight balls, were shaking.

"Take me back," she said, her words cold as ice. " _Now_." I pretended to consider it, at least amusing her anger.

"Well, see, saying that your beloved Tamlin is yet to send me a message declaring war, I'm not exactly in a rush," I told her, smirking.

"Our bargain hasn't started yet!" She said, though there was a sense of uncertainty in her voice as she looked at the tattoo on her arm. Clearly, she was so desperate when she got it at the time, that she really didn't bother quizzing me for the detailed terms of our deal.

"It's a bit cold in here," I said, noticing the goosebumps on her scarred skin, "If you're uncomfortable sleeping down here, I have a room-"

"Really?" She said, her eyes wide with fierce, searing hot hatred. It nearly made me wince. "You're making such disgusting jokes, now of all times? When will you realize that I will never, e _ver-_ "

"Your own room," I said snappily. "Cauldron, I'm not a monster, Feyre. You're not here to be my sex slave." Though she was still angry, her body loosened.

"Then why am I here? Are you still testing Tamlin? Do you really want to go to war with him, Rhysand?" She asked through her clenched teeth. I waved my hand at her dismissively and let out an amused chuckle.

"War? With Tamlin? It would last ten minutes," I said with a proud huff. "Trust me, if I was going to waste such valuable resources then I would've wiped him off the map years ago." And that wasn't a lie, I had considered it many times because of the cruelty he had committed against my family but Amarantha was always my first target. But I could sense that she was crumbling inside, breaking, so I didn't continue. I sat up immediately, as if waiting for her to fall to the floor. I knew it would end this way – I should've just given her back. I shouldn't have listened to Mor. She was too vulnerable. _I_ was too vulnerable.

"Look," I said softly, trying not to show the desperation in my voice. "When I came back, I realized that I have some issues on my plate." Her eyes widened, sarcasm already on her tongue. I sighed.

"Oh, really? I thought you were absolutely sane all this time – especially when you humiliated me in front of my lover's friends over and over at the balls and nearly killed me on several occasions," she said coolly. My eyes narrowed, though I felt the guilt weigh on me like a legion of dead bodies.

"I saved your life," I reminded her cruelly, watching her wince. "If you think I'm horrible, maybe I should send you back to your beloved Tamlin. You can go ahead and ask him what wonderful things he's been up to for the last few centuries." Her mouth opened, but then closed. She looked at me curiously, as if tempted to ask, but then she shook her head tiredly.

"I trust, Tamlin," she said, though her words were empty. Apparently she wasn't lying when she said the mountain had changed her.

"Oh, you're curious now?" I taunted. "Well, before you try killing yourself by running away, you should probably look in your room. I, once again, saved the day, darling." She squinted at me, unsure of my words. Her hands, thankfully, had stopped shaking and the hatred in her eyes seemed to die down. Maybe she had finally noticed that I no longer had the motivation to look at her like she was a pathetic animal, that I was trustful.

"Tamlin will kill you," she said, her words filled with solid fact. "He will kill you once he finds you." My eyebrows went up daringly, trying not to look too amused. After all, I did want her to start liking me, and I figured that continuing to insult her lover wouldn't help.

"And why don't _you_ kill me?" I said, jumping up to my feet and going nose to nose with her. She sucked in a breath, but she didn't move. "You don't need him, you know. You're strong." She stared at me, looking into my violet eyes as her blue-grey eyes resembled fire. For a moment, I felt that pull again, that storm of emotions that took me over. I tried to remain calm, steady.

"What's in the room?" She demanded, and I felt like the proximity was getting to her now because her cheeks began to rush with redness. I didn't want to look into her thoughts, though – I wanted her to tell me. To say that our connection, our bond, was far from normal.

"I guess you're going to have to check," I said erotically, our lips barely touching as I leaned in. She pushed herself away quickly, rushing up the stairs. I followed her swiftly, trying not to seem so eager but anxious none the less.

"It's the first door on the right," My voice purred. "Don't act too excited, I don't need a puddle-" But my words were interrupted by a half-gasp, half-scream. I raced up quickly, a fear running through me that maybe she was hurt.

"Feyre, are you-" But then I saw her, one hand gripping the doorway as if she was afraid she'll fall and another on her stomach. I followed her eyes cautiously to the figure laying onto the bed. I watched as she gained the strength to slowly walk towards the bed, fear filling her with every step. I, on the other hand, stood there in horror as I looked at the figure's body at a distance.

The figure, fragile but almost as beautiful as Feyre herself, would've looked dead if her eyes weren't open. I noticed that there were bruises and bloodied marks all over her body, some looking like claw marks. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I looked at Mor, who was suddenly next to me, watching the scene sternly with her arms crossed and tilting her head. Mor had told me that she found the girl, but she had conveniently forgot to bring up the fact that she was a bloodied pulp.

 _This wasn't the plan._

I whispered in her ear quickly, "Did you do this? I told you, I didn't want either of them touched. I didn't want to do this dirty. I didn't-"

"He beat me." It came out of the figure. "That-that piece of filth beat me." Feyre whirled around towards Mor and I with that look in her eyes – that look of murder. She inched closer and I, in surprise, went in front of Mor protectively.

"Feyre, let my cousin, Mor, explain. I would never allow-" But my words were cut off.

"I'll kill you," she whispered, her eyes darting to Mor as well, despite not having the proper introduction to her. "I'll kill-"

"It wasn't him," the figure interrupted, with an unusual sense of sharpness in her voice. "It was-It was-"

"It was who?" Feyre's voice was hoarse, rushing towards her. "Nesta, who was it?"

"It was Tamlin. That _faerie_ you loved," the girl said, filled with such unneeded anger towards Feyre that I almost jumped into the conversation, but her words – that _Tamlin_ , that spineless scum, did this- shocked me into silence. "When he couldn't find you, Tamlin thought you came to our house to say goodbye for the last time. He was dazed, crazy looking. And when you weren't there with us, he thought-he thought that I hurt you. He thought I made you leave him. He then told me I was a monster, resenting you even though you had done so much for me. I tried telling him that you deserted us but-but he kept telling me that when you weren't in his bed, that you must've left to say goodbye to us for the final time because you-you are _immortal_ now, and when you arrived that I must've done something to you." I heard Feyre choke, no longer growing closer to her.

 _Oh, Cauldron_ , I said to myself. _I did this. This was my fault._

"He left me there in the kitchen to die…and then _she_ saved me." The girl, Nesta, looked at Mor piercingly, partially in suspicion but with a hint of respect.

Feyre shook her head fast. "That can't be, Tamlin would never do that. Tamlin wouldn't ever take out his anger on my sisters. It was _you_ , Rhysand. Only the Night Court would-"

"Desperation makes us do terrible, terrible things." The words came out of Mor's mouth. Finally, Feyre locked eyes with her crossly. For a moment, I thought Feyre would try attacking her, killing her, but Feyre's eyes merely hardened. At least she didn't think we were lying fully.

"What happened to Elain, then?" Her trembling voice demanded, talking to Mor only. The emotionless look in Mor's eyes shattered, as if she knew of her failure all along and was hoping that she wouldn't have to speak about it now.

"The boy with Tamlin took her," Nesta answered for her emptily, though Feyre didn't turn around to face her. "The red-head stopped Tamlin from hurting her and…and took her." Feyre finally looked at me, trying to find the lies on my face, trying to figure out what part of the story was made up. My eyebrows lifted.

"Unless Tamlin had finally adopted someone else from the Autumn Court, I'm assuming she's talking about your lovely Lucien," I answered, my voice unusually steady. "Trying to stop Tamlin from becoming a monster but always utterly failing? Sounds pretty familiar to me."

But as her face shattered, and I felt the pain from her heart tug on our very thin thread, I knew what my next move would be. _War._

 ** _Please give me as many comments as you can! I thrive off replies. I'm aiming for at least five more._**


	3. Chapter 3

"Mor, get Azriel and Cass and Amren. We need to get a meeting, _now,"_ I demanded, feeling my heartbeat ringing in my ears loudly, shooting adrenaline up and down my body so fast that I felt like I could run a thousand miles. I then looked at Feyre, shriveled and in shock of the new revelation. "You're welcome to join us if you desire, but I understand if you'd rather be at your sister's bedside." My words immediately sparked something in her, as I could tell by her sudden flinch.

"What? You're thinking of going to war?" She asked breathlessly, as if the question itself was near impossible.

"War, battle, a hiss in the face," I said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Whatever it takes for him to grovel on his knees and beg for me to spare his useless, pitiful life." Her emotionless face swifted into a look of utter disgust, forcing my composure to falter for just a moment.

"You can't just attack him," she sputtered. I flinched back at her, looking her up and down sporadically like she was utterly mad. Did she not digest what just happened? What her so-called lover did to her family? That Tamlin was absolutely off the walls?!

"In case it escaped your notice, he just hurt one of the love ones of my guest, violated one of my higher values of leaving mortals alone, and has, quite frankly, pissed me off," I snapped impatiently. "I think those are very credible reasons to attack, Feyre-darling." She shook her head harshly, her lips curling back as if the sight of me was causing her to explode.

"Who says you're not to blame?" She spat, her voice cracking a bit in the middle. I sighed dramatically, finding that I didn't have the energy for this argument anymore. I could feel her anger beam so harshly that I nearly felt it in my veins, as if I was the easiest person to project it to. Mor stood up straighter as Feyre nailed her eyes on me, and even her sister, Nesta, seemed exasperated.

"I'm sorry?" I asked, blinking.

"You know what I'm talking about!" She shrilled. "Stealing me, taking me to your castle, making Tamlin believe the worst and watch him blame my sisters in order to fulfill your disgusting need to get everyone to hate you! After all the actions you've committed against him throughout the years…" She was tiny, drained of color and her body was in terrible condition, but she still insisted on using the little fire she had left on _me_ of all people. I almost felt honored.

"Oh, yes," I said dryly. "Because Tamlin has always been an innocent victim. Hunting you like an animal at Calanmai just because he believes you're his territory, leaving you to fight all those tasks alone because interfering was a risk of his own head, and-"

"Rhys," I heard Mor hiss warningly, but I wasn't done yet. No, I was very, very far from done. I had waited and sat in that stupid mountain for too long to tolerate this nonsense – I was no longer going to waste my time waiting.

"-And maiming your sisters to the brink of death because you were incapable of warming his bed for once," I purred, as cold as I could muster. "If you have any wits left in your tiny, mortal skull, you'll realize that he's an insufferable tool. He nearly destroyed your family and ruined you." And maybe I went too far, and maybe I had ruined my chance with her forever, but she needed to hear those words. She was too strong, too valuable, to remain ignorant of his cruelty. Her entire body was trembling in anger, and I could sense her eyes tearing up, but she stood her ground.

"You don't know what he endured in that…" She choked, unable to say it. "You don't know what he has endured." My lips curled back. In my peripheral vision, Mor was looking at me harshly, but I was tired of Tamlin. Tired of his entire existence, actually. Now that I saw her sister in mangles due to his juvenile actions, wiping him off the map was starting to look like a priority.

"You're right," I whispered, striding to her and putting my lips to her ear seductively. "Because he sat on his ass the entire time, while I was risking my neck in all the ways possible just to get you out of there after being used as a play toy for fifty years." She opened her mouth, then closed it. Once I took a step back, I caught a glint of the redness in her eyes, as if pushing down the tears that were tempted to fall. The string that held me to her stiffened, and I let out a painful breath. I had an apology stuck in my throat for the first time since cauldron-knows-when, but then Nesta jumped into the conversation.

"I don't care what you have to do. Burn the whole place down if you need to," Nesta snarled. "Just get my sister back."

~discidium~

When Mor and I had made our way downstairs, my crew was waiting silently in my office. Too silently. Their eyes were on me like spies as they analyzed my body from head to toe, with awe and a bit of suspicion. They took notice of the slight limp I still had, the scar against my cheek, the hurricane of emotions forming in my eyes. They noticed the permanent dull rings that were on both of my wrists, from the many times Amarantha had tied me to her bed. They watched as I walked towards the table with my back as straight as a pin and how I, too, was looking at them, and trying to memorize every detail of the scene just in case I was imprisoned once more. Just in case all of this was just a dream.

"And yet you still look an idiot," Cass tried to joke, but nobody laughed. There was no humor in the scene – not when their High Lord had disappeared for half a century. I looked at all of them, trying to catch their glances all at once. There was resentment in their eyes, not that I expected less. I had left them.

"I am-I am so sorry," I said to them, my words breaking. Though saying 'sorry' wasn't good enough and I knew it. "For leaving you, for forcing you to live with my absence and putting you through so much pain-"

"Shut up," Amren interrupted. I blinked at her stupidly, so she continued. "If you are insisting that we are mad at you for protecting your people, you are wrong." Cass folded his arms tightly, his eyes narrowing on me.

"We're mad at you for not letting us go to that stupid ball," Cass snapped. "For not letting us suffer _with_ you, you great idiot." I shook my head at him, my stomach churning.

"I couldn't let you do that. I-"

"You wanted to protect us, yadda yadda yadda," Amren finished. "We love you, Rhysand. We are here to protect _all_ of us. So, for the Cauldron's sake, let us help you." And though they were all looking at me angrily, including Mor, I had to suppress a smile.

"If you say so," I said, perking up an eyebrow. "But, let's start from the beginning." And so I began. From the beginning to the end. They winced at some parts, like when I spoke about Amarantha using me as a whore, and let out a dark chuckle occasionally, especially when I spoke about Tamlin. The darkness in Azriel's eyes unnerved me, but I didn't cease. I didn't even take a breath until I began talking about Feyre– from the dreams to the moment I first met her at Calanmai. I saw Mor's eyes lighten as I told them about when I officially fell in love with her, memorized by her bravery and her abilities. I told them about how I manipulated the seven lord's to revive her and turn her immortal.

And then I told them about how she was mine, and I was hers, and how she didn't know a single bit of it. As it spewed out, I caught a fast glance between Mor and Azriel, making me stiffen. But I forgot about it almost immediately once I began talking about how Tamlin had the audacity to attack Feyre's family.

"No wonder I heard yelling upstairs," Cass huffed, looking between us all. "That injured girl – Nesta, her name is? – has quite the fire."

"Yelling?" Mor said curiously. Cass gave her a simple wave of the hand.

"Oh, nothing important. Just something about Feyre being a disappointment to the family and that Tamlin was less than spit on the ground and that if they ever meet again, she will murder him with her two mortal hands." My eyebrows went up nonchalantly, but a childish fear soared through me.

"And Feyre?" I said, my mouth going dry. "What does she think of Tamlin?"

"That she was sorry," Cass said as he tried suppressing the coldness in his voice but inevitably failed. "That he changed and she doesn't think she can ever forgive him. But she thinks talking to him will solve something, rather than following our so-called cult." I imagined taking her back there – watching her fall into his arms and kissing him right in front of my eyes. Watching it all over again because she believed him over us. Because she loved him.

"What is the word of the High Lord of the Night Court compared to your own lover?" I said aloud. Nobody inched towards me but I could sense Mor almost considering it.

"I…I think she's coming along," Cass said, breaking the awkward silence. "She's not insane. She's just in shock."

"I hope so," Amren sneered. "Because _accidentally kidnapping_ your mate was probably the best thing that you could've possible done." My face twitched.

"What do you mean?" And when I said it outloud, it came out as a croak. Because I had just gotten out of that bloody mountain. I had spent fifty years being someone's play toy for the greater good, and the last three months selling my soul to a mortal girl who absolutely hated me. And yet now, Cass was looking at me with that hollow look in his eyes, as if we were going to have to kill a thousand man once again.

"King Hypbern has some plans for that wall," Cass revealed, and for a moment I couldn't even blink. King Hypbern? I predicted this fight to happen but not so soon. My eyes brushed past the rest of them, collecting the uncomfortable looks across their faces.

"And none of you, excluding Cassian, thought to bring this up?" I growled, looking at Mor especially. Her eyes began to tear up.

"I just…it seemed like you had enough issues. I didn't think it would hurt to wait a day or two," Mor mumbled. I shook my head at all of them, trying my best not to show my fury.

"Well, then what's the news?" My eyes found Azriel, who was leaning against the wall casually, dipping into a shadow.

"The news is that we know absolutely nothing," Azriel's words clipped sharply. "He wants to take over the mortal lands, but nobody knows how. I'm still yet to hear those whispers. But I'm assuming that whatever plan he has, it has begun." I frowned.

"I guess that war against Tamlin is going to have to be brushed aside for a bit then," I said bitterly. "We're going to have to use all our resources towards the King's plan." But then Azriel put his hand up to stop me.

"Not so fast, I have a plan," Azriel objected, taking a step towards me.

"Do tell."

"Feyre," Azriel said in return. My body jerked.

"Feyre? Why would we-" But then it hit me. "She has seven powers in her immortal body now. If I can convince her-"

But then the door slammed open. None of us jumped in surprise, but I noticed how Azriel stood straighter and Cass had reached for a dagger. Mor was in high alert, and I knew Amren was considering what power to blast. But then the scarred, severely-angry figures walked in, quite pathetically.

"Well, well, well," I purred, stepping towards Feyre and Nesta with my hands clasped behind me. "So you are interested." Feyre sneered at me.

"Fine," she said coolly. "Tamlin…it doesn't matter how he treated me before. He took my sister, and abused Nesta. I- _we_ \- are in." My smile widened, glancing at Nesta who was shooting me a deathly glare. My eyes lingered back to Feyre, questioning her. Did she really come to this conclusion that fast? Willing to go against her lover, who she had killed and died for, over something she didn't even witness first-hand?

"Great," I said, leaning closer to her. "But there is one itsy-bitsy condition." Feyre's fierce face faltered.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"Another enemy of mine has taken up the liberty to try to test me," I explained, with a slight bite in my tone. "And, due to my very inconvenient absence over the past fifty years, I'm low on resources." Nesta bumped around Feyre harshly, sticking her nose in my face. My eyebrows rose.

"I don't care if _I_ have to be the whore," she growled. "I want my sister back. Soon." I peeked over Nesta's head to meet Feyre's stormy eyes. Through the small strand that pulled me to her, I could feel her uncertainty.

"And you, Feyre? Are you willing to lend out your services?" I asked, my eyes boring into hers. She swallowed.

"As in?" She replied, her voice struggling to hold onto her fading strength.

"I have just learned that the seven lords have unknowingly delegated powers to you when they chose to give you a second chance," I told her honestly, watching as her face repulsed in confusion.

"Powers? I don't have any powers!" She bellowed angrily. "And even if I did, what are you going to do? Sell me to him?" Cass stifled a laugh behind me, but my eyes merely narrowed.

"No, I'm going to train you. Cassian, to be exact," I said, nodding my head towards him briefly. I heard his mouth open, probably in protest, but he closed it quickly. "So when the time comes for you to decide whether or not you're going to fight for your lands or watch them die, I'll at least know you are capable of being a part of our fight on the battlefied." Her mouth opened immediately.

"My lands?" She asked, dazzled. "I don't have lands." I pursed my lips.

"The mortal world," I said, seriously. "He wants to break down the wall." Nesta shrieked loudly, backing away in horror. Feyre, on the other hand, froze.

"Break down the wall?" She replied, emptily. "But, Rhysand-"

"I'm not an evil person, Feyre. I am not the enemy. I don't want to see that fall any more than you do. If you choose this path, if you choose to join my court for as long as I need you, I will let you stay at my castle at your own leisure. I will feed you, clothe you, even send you a monthly payment for your duties."

"And if we choose to walk away?" It was Nesta speaking now. After her shriek of horror, her eyes swiped across us defensively, as if we were too against the mortals.

"Then you will not have our help getting Elain back," I told Nesta coldly. "And you will be forced to go back to Tamlin's estate and be on lockdown there. Forever." I quickly glanced at Feyre, knowing what she was thinking. I just gave her an easy way out. I am letting her go home to her beloved Tamlin. But surely, things have changed. Her feelings for him have changed.

But Nesta must've seen the conflict in Feyre's eyes as well because she hissed to her, "I am not staying in lockdown at Tamlin's little castle, Feyre." Feyre shook her head, growing closer to her sister desperately.

"You don't know what he's talking about, Tamlin will let you go if I just-"

"He hurt me, Feyre," Nesta spat. "He _hurt_ me. And Elain. Don't you dare pick him. Don't you dare!" The conflict in Feyre's eyes died down, sadness replacing it.

"How would you help us, then?" Feyre said, looking up at me. I put my hands into my pockets casually, trying not to dwell on the sadness on her face.

"If you were to agree to our deal?" I continued. "Well, I think you were right about one thing, Feyre-darling. I don't want to waste my precious resources immediately on Tamlin." Her face relaxed, just a little bit. But her stare was deathly.

"So we wait?" She asked, her voice sharp. There was an echo of silence until I began to laugh.

"Wait? The High Lord of the Night Court, _wait_?" I snorted, mocking her. "Of-fucking-course-not. I am not waiting for Tamlin to get off his ass. It would take an entire century, if not more." Her jaw tensed and I could sense that I was reaching her last nerve.

"I'll go along with your little plan," I hissed. "I'll talk to him first." _And more_ , I almost added. But I had to take this alliance one step at a time.

"Talk to him? You…you will talk to him?" She asked skeptically. I nodded.

"And I will let you go with me," I told her. "Along with your sister, Nesta. I hope you don't mind a few members of my inner-circle coming along as well, though." Finally, Feyre took a glance at my inner circle with a questionable eye, recognizing their presence for the first time. As I followed her gaze, Az gave her a curt nod, Cassian wiggled his fingers, Amren glared at her, and Mor gave her a bright smile.

"Your pick," I offered. Her arms were crossed against her chest defiantly, but her face drained of color.

"Er," She said, her voice cracking. "Your cousin, Mor, and-and…" She looked between the rest of them quickly, trying to decide which one was the least dangerous.

"You, in the corner," she said, notioning to Azriel. My smile widened. There was a hint of surprise on his face, but he stepped forward with precise steps.

"Pleasant choice," I agreed, and I took pleasure with the bewildered look she flashed back at me, as if realizing very, very quickly that she made the wrong decision.

"Wait-"

"Then it's agreed," I said, clapping my hands together. "Tomorrow, at first light. Of course, that's only if you're willing to promise me one thing, Feyre." Nesta was starting to look impatient now.

"That is?" Feyre replied.

"That you will walk into Tamlin's dull residence as a member of my court, and not as his lover," I said, my voice growing serious. "You will walk in with me and you will walk out with me." I expected her to flinch at my demands, but she didn't even blink an eye.

"Fine," she snapped. "I promise." I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Well then," I said, waving my hand at her. "Go back to your rooms. Rest. I need to speak to my inner circle before tomorrow, and your presence is ruining the mood." She opened her mouth to say something vulgar but then, to my surprise, Nesta pulled her away and pulled her out my study.

When the doors clanged shut, I was the first to speak.

I didn't look at Azriel as I heard myself ask, "Is she lying?" There was a solemn silence for a moment, unusual for Azriel to bear. He was usually impulsive – quick, rapid like a snake. But when he delayed his answer, there were goosebumps going up and down my arms.

"Yes," He said. "She's lying."  
~ Discidium~

 **This chapter was a tad dry but I needed to advance the plot. Please, give me reviews. If I don't get any, I kind've just assume that nobody is reading it :P Also, I'm sorry for the errors**


	4. Chapter 4

The first night that I knew of Feyre being under the mountain, I dreamed of making love. But there was a catch in the beautiful dream – that our making love wasn't _sex._ It wasn't our bodies grinding up and down each other, filled with gasps and moaning each other's name. It didn't feel like our bodies were flooding with exhilaration, both of us becoming one. Instead, we made love by baking a cake. We made love by fighting next to each other on a battle field. We made love by dancing under shooting stars and holding hands at a wedding ceremony and falling asleep next to each other. For the first time in the five hundred years of me being alive, I realized that sex doesn't make love. As I grew to be Amarantha's whore, I began to believe that I would never be whole again. That because she took that part of me – the part that conjoins me with someone else, the part that makes me someone else's, that lets my lover have everything I have, vulnerabilities included – nobody could ever love me, and I could never love someone else. But after that dream, after that dream of Feyre making love with me without me having to forfeit my body to her, I promised myself that if I ever escaped that mountain with Feyre at my side then I would make love to her every day for the rest of my life.

And that's what I held onto. That's what I held onto when I looked into Feyre's lying eyes, the pair of eyes that still believed sex made love, the pair of eyes that believed love can only come from Tamlin.

"It's daylight," Nesta snapped, as if I were too dumb to realize the golden rays in front of me. She stood in front of me limply, looking like absolute death. Circles ringed her eyes from the loss of sleep and her hair was a tangly mess, as if she hadn't touched it for days. But she still looked like she would kill someone to get past the front door.

Feyre, next to her, didn't look far different. Her eyes were darting back and forth, clearly not having any trust between Azriel and Mor. She hadn't bothered to change clothes and she was standing oddly close to the sister that she claimed to dislike. I took a step towards her, and she watched as my legs elegantly moved. It was a mix between admiration and hatred.

"You remember our agreement?" I asked, my eyebrow flickering up. Her eyes narrowed, bunching her hands into tight balls.

"Unfortunately," she spat. The corner of my lips tilted up as I looped around her. Her legs straightened up instantly, very aware how close my lips were to her neck as I leaned down behind her. She took a ragged breath.

"Then, you won't be mad once I do _this_." Before she could see what I was even doing, I took a pair of misty handcuffs and latched it around one of her wrists, the other cuff on mine. She let out a gasp and shifted her head to me, her eyes wide in horror.

"What did you just-"

"While I don't underestimate your desire to rescue your sister, you were willing to die for that man," I hissed, disgust growing in my tone. "I'm not stupid, Feyre. I know that you won't give up that easily." She shot me a look – a look filled with despise. I felt a sharp pain in my stomach, looking deep into her grey-blue eyes, which only reflected resentment.

My eyes fell to Mor almost instantly. Though she looked at me worriedly, her thoughts hadn't shifted. _She'll forgive you_ , she had once told me. But only if I told her I was her mate. And maybe I should've done that, instead of tricking her like a deceiving enemy. But I couldn't let the words out of my lips even if I wanted to. Even I have had trouble accepting it.

"You're foul," Feyre said to me, eyeing the shadowy wisps that circled her wrist.

"Don't even try getting out of them," I warned, giving her a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes. I wiggled my side of the handcuffs, showing how the black wisps didn't budge from my wrist. "They aren't your typical substance." She fumed.

"You bastard," she hissed. "Once Tamlin knows about this-"

"He'll kick my ass?" I snorted, looking her up and down, trying to figure out if she truly believed that. "I guess we'll just have to see." I nodded to Azriel and Mor. Azriel latched onto Nesta's arm rapidly, as I pulled Feyre towards me.

And then, before her blue-grey eyes could realize what I was about to do, I winnowed into the darkness

~discidium~

The first thing I smelled was the sweet scent of the dew still stuck on the grass. While Feyre took a great inhale, I wrinkled my nose. Garbage smelled better than this atrocious vegetation – all I saw was green and trees. It was like I stepped into an old couple's garden, intentionally trying to never see anybody ever again since I was now stuck in the countryside. As I turned, Mor and Azriel had the same look, and something dark passed over Nesta's face. She was quiet.

"I can't believe somebody would intentionally do this to themselves," I said, looking around at the dull horizon. "It looks like a prison." With no walls, nothing from stopping somebody from stepping out of the grounds, but a prison all the same. Something changed on Feyre's face once I said that – as if she was finally seeing what I was seeing. Amarantha.

We all, in unison, began walking closer to the castle. Mortals probably thought the residence was absolutely amazing – star struck by its beauty – but it was average, maybe even below average, compared to the rest of the castles. It was Tamlin's safe haven, but I couldn't fathom why he would see it as safe. It was distant, plain, dull. It wasn't home. It wasn't loveable. And I hoped, deep down, that Feyre saw that. For a mortal, it resembles heaven. To an immortal, is resembles a cage.

I didn't realize that I made it to the front door until I was nose to nose with it. Looking back on it, it probably would've been easier to just winnow inside the castle, instead of standing outside of it awkwardly.

Mor, abnormally neutral so far, offered an idea, "Should we use the door or-" But then Nesta went around us and without consulting any of us, decided to simply knock on the door. As if we were all one person, we all objected to the action.

"We do not knock on doors," Azriel said coolly. "Not our enemy's door." Nesta spun around, glaring at my shadowsinger.

"Go find a shadow to melt into," she hissed. Mor stepped in front of him, barring her teeth.

"Don't mess with him," she told her. "I will tear you to shreds." And she meant it. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she meant it. Azriel and her – they were an interesting cup of tea. A cup of tea that I wasn't sure I wanted to happen.

To be honest, I was slightly unnerved that both Mor and Azriel were coming along. While I was humored by Feyre's pick, it had been fifty years since I had witnessed them together, and yet there was still an uneasiness as they stood a few feet apart. Cassian was usually between them, filling the buffer that both of them needed. Azriel, on one hand, preferred Cassian's buffer, because it gave him an excuse not to let himself love her. Mor, on the other hand, needed the buffer because she wanted Azriel more than he could ever give to someone, even if he tried. They were both two very broken creatures, while on the exact opposite sides of the spectrum. Azriel was filled with secrets and distance, and Mor never wanted to let anyone go. Throughout the last fifty years, I hoped they'd solve the issue, instead of persisting to use Cassian as the buffer. Because, for once, Cassian wasn't here and I had a feeling it was going to be a very long journey.

Not long after I started pondering on this though, the door opened. I felt Feyre tense beside me, and my two inner circle members prepare to fight. Nesta, the one person who had been waiting to be here the most, stood up straighter, as if she was preparing to run down the first person who opened the door.

"You-you…" It was Tamlin who opened the door. He was only wearing pants – his chest was bare, with cuts and scrapes all over it. His pants, the only piece of clothing that he had on, were ripped and tarnished. While there was a time I had stood next to him on a battlefield, was the first to see him after he had lost his virginity to a rough escort, and had witnessed the look on his face after his family was murdered, I realized there was no coming back from this. He had never looked at me with such disgust, such bewilderment, so much emotion. Despite my hatred for Tamlin, I really didn't want him as an enemy. He was tiring – relentless. And despite being utterly useless, I could benefit from his resources. In all honesty, I never expected for him to truly care about her. Not in the end. I believed it was just lust and hunger, not true feelings.

But when he opened the door, I realized he did.

I had given him a slight hint that Feyre and I, including a couple of my inner circle members, were going to be dropping in today just so that he had a few hours to cool down before seeing us, but he still looked shocked.

"Lost at words again, Tamlin?" I taunted as he held my gaze like a mountain lion prepared to attack. "Wouldn't be the first." He took harsh breaths. My eyebrows went farther and farther up my forehead.

"TAMLIN!" Feyre cried, trying to take a step towards him but then pulled back by the handcuffs. She snarled at me.

"I'll kill you," he said, not the first time he has ever said this. "I will murder you just like I-" And just to taunt him, I smirked.

"Just like you tried killing her sisters? Just like you tried destroying a piece of her that you'll never get back?" I continued, my eyes motioning to how dreadful Feyre looked due to his actions - like a corpse too thin for the wolves to eat. His talons were beginning to cause dents in the doorway.

"I should've known it was you. I should've…" But then his eyes finally found Feyre's. To my greatest dislike, she was crying. _Crying._ Over this deranged, disgusting individual that I didn't even truly believed should be allowed to exist.

"I am so-so sorry, Tamlin," She choked. "I never meant to leave you. He took me. I didn't have a choice." The anger on his face shattered.

"I don't-" Just as he was about to brush past Nesta to get to her, Nesta swung a dagger out the side of her belt and held it to Tamlin's neck. He let out a breath of surprise as Nesta's hand, abnormally steady, poked against his throat. A drop of blood was starting to trail down. Even I was a bit surprised – where the hell did Nesta get a dagger? And not only that, but it was Cassian's dagger.

 _Oh,_ I thought, _he will not be happy_.

"Nesta," Tamlin said casually. "Please remove the dagger from my throat. I do not want to hurt you." I snorted. Nesta didn't budge an inch. He clearly didn't know who he was dealing with. Feyre had a nervous look on her face as well, but not for Nesta's safety – for Tamlin's safety.

"You did though. And you hurt Elain too," Nesta hissed instead. Finally, Feyre spoke.

"Nesta, this won't help anything," Feyre agreed. "Just let him breathe. He was upset, angry-"

"I don't try killing people when I'm angry," Nesta spat, her words cold as ice. Tamlin bowed his head a bit.

"I admit to the sins I had committed and the wrongs I have done," Tamlin said, his voice dramatically regretful. I rolled my eyes. "Please, let me make it up to you. I'll do anything." When he met Nesta's eyes, her hand slackened. A wave of disappointment soared through me, because I had admired Nesta's fire. I really truly did.

"That's…" Nesta said softly. "That's _not good enough_." And then she spat at him, square in the face. Within a second, his face was fuming in anger, his mask shattering and showing his true self.

"Tamlin," Feyre said, nearly begging. He looked back at her, more beast than fae. And then he noticed it. The black, ghostly rings that formed around her wrists, chaining her to me. His eyes went from her, to the handcuffs, to me. My smile brightened.

"Now the fun begins," I said. Without a single beat, he elbowed Nesta in the face, forcing her to stumble back and fall to the ground, the dagger falling with her. He lunged towards me with his own sword – gleaming with sharpness. I, though I considered it, didn't dare grab my weapon. I had nothing to hide. Nothing to fear.

Because the shadowsinger – my friend – knew that I could easily fight with someone chained to me, I was trained to fight in far worse situations, but I didn't want to. It would only put her in more danger, and I couldn't bear that. Not now, not when I was staring a monster in the face who only wanted to damage her more. He swung around me, hitting Tamlin's sword with his own just as it was about to hit my face. He disarmed him within three seconds, Tamlin's sword swinging into the air so roughly that it landed a few feet behind us. His hands were shaking, hopefully in fear.

"Disgusting bastard filth," I heard him hiss under his breath, speaking as if Azriel was more creature than man. Feyre obviously was too stuck on Tamlin to even hear his words, or maybe she just loved lying to herself that much. My smile broke and my free hand went to my dagger protectively, no longer thinking.

His eyes fell back to the dark rings though, with a mix between desperation and shock. My hand slackened, remembering Feyre again.

"Now, you can either let us into your cozy home and have a nice meal with us," I said, no longer capable of smiling. "Or you can try killing us again, but I do warn you that it will not end in your favor."

~disicidium~

My eyes followed Feyre as Tamlin brought us into the castle. Her eyes analyzed every detail of the home – the furniture, the chandeliers, the rich walls. She was emotionless, unfeeling and extremely quiet. I knew that feeling, the feeling of trying to find the essence of home again. Of coming back after twenty years in Illyarian training camps, and trying to search for that feeling of safety that I had felt as a child. I had that look on my face when I faced my father for the first time since I was eight, and the moment I stepped back into the Night Court after I had proven that I was too powerful to be "lounging" around in Illyarian territories.

If only she realized that home wasn't a physical place.

"Looks gorgeous," I purred, eyeing the destruction. Nearly every room had the walls clawed, furniture tipped over, reeked of pain and sorrow. Tamlin shot me a look, a look that gave me a subtle feeling of victory.

"Don't test me," he hissed. I shrugged, pulling Feyre's chained wrist with me. As he turned back around in front of him, his talons dug into his palms, and I took a short look behind me. Tamlin hadn't noticed that Azriel and Mor were scouting the house – memorizing every entrance, every staircase, eyeing every servant intimidatingly. Mor was in plain sight, too powerful to ever dare try hiding herself. She thought it made her more intimidating, being in plain sight of her enemies, and she wasn't entirely wrong. An aura of dominance and daringness always hovered around her when she was suspecting battle, and that bravery, that arrogance that she held when she walked proudly, made people fear her.

Azriel, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He was hard to track since he melted into the shadows so easily, being everywhere and nowhere all at once. I saw a flicker of a body here and there, but even I couldn't predict where he was. His power made him nearly invisible.

Nesta, who was standing closer to Tamlin than I was, was breathing down his neck. Her eyes darted around her whenever she saw someone's head, unfortunately realizing that none of the heads belonged to her sister, but were simply servants wandering around us. It made me curious how trained the servants really were – did Tamlin even bother having body guards? Or did he really think nobody could ever break into his picturesque estate? Though I was the most powerful High Lord, I still persisted on training my servants, at least to an extent. More for their safety than mine.

"Where is your lapdog Lucien?" My voice rang, making him skip a step. "If you hadn't forgotten, I did come here to fetch for the sister you nearly killed. I'm assuming, Lucien being her hero and all, that he insisted on staying with her." _To protect her from you._

I heard him snarl.

"He'll be here later, when Elain is ready to leave her room." And then it started before I could stop it. Nesta swerved in front of Tamlin, her teeth bared.

"Are you trying to be cute?" She sneered. Tamlin's upper lip curled back, clearly insulted.

"I am a High Lord," he reminded her, and I scuffed. "You dare-"

"Oh fuck you," she interrupted, and Feyre's eyes shot to her coolly. "I didn't come here to play damsel in distress, I want my sister back. _Now_." Tamlin's face loosened when he caught Feyre's eye and he held a calm, but fake, demeanor.

"You'll have to see her after dinner," Tamlin told not only her, but Feyre too, who was obviously curious of Elain's whereabouts. Even Feyre had a worrisome look on her face, as if she finally realized that she had no idea what Tamlin was thinking. She had never seen the political side of Tamlin.

"She won't be joining us?" Feyre asked. Tamlin merely shook his head at her, striding towards the dining room again. I had been here enough times to know where the room was, as a friend and a foe. Tamlin knew how I worked, and I knew how he worked. We would start with a calm, tense dinner as we always did when we needed to talk things out instead of trying to murder each other, and then one of us would threaten to wipe the other off the map halfway in, and then I would walk out victoriously.

When we reached it, I took the chair nearest to the head of the table, Feyre sitting in the one next to me. Tamlin's nostrils flared, but grudgingly sat exactly across from me, just to keep hard eye contact. Nesta took the head of the table, and Tamlin's anger worsened because that was _his_ chair, but he remained silent about it.

Mor took the one on the other side of Feyre, growing as close to her as she possibly could, and Azriel didn't even bother to sit down. Instead, he leaned against the dining room wall, his hands clasped in front of him calmly and was alarmingly still.

"Too good to sit down, Shadowsinger?" Tamlin asked, looking at him up and down. Azriel's single expression didn't even twitch. His eyes look down at Tamlin with no care at all.

"I don't want your food," Azriel said, and while there was no insulting tone, I could _feel_ the hatred that Azriel had towards Tamlin, due to the many years Tamlin had shot inhumane comments at him during our so-called friendly get-togethers. Azriel was always a part of my family – even once I began working with my father directly, partially because he was my best friend, and partially because he was the best spy my father could ask for at parties and balls. Even when Tamlin and I were moderately friends, Tamlin was intimidated by him. Maybe it was because of Azriel's unnerving silence, or maybe because Azriel could kill him with only two fingers, but Tamlin had never treated Azriel like he was a human being.

I have never seen Azriel yell, but he was terrifying when he wanted to be. Tamlin flinched, just a little bit. Enough to show that he too was afraid of my shadowsinger.

"Bastard," I heard Mor mutter, but Tamlin didn't even look angry, as if he had no reason to. While Feyre didn't see it, Tamlin never believed females should hold power nor took them seriously.

"I see you still have a position in Rhysand's court," Tamlin responded, as if generally interested. But we all knew, excluding Feyre, that he was only saying it to demean her.

"Morrigan is one of my most lethal and promising inner-circle members," I responded, before she could make the tension worse. Tamlin didn't even bother responding. Instead, he acted as if I hadn't even brought up her worthiness at all. He might treat Feyre like she is the sun, but he would never see the strengths females possess that men, frankly, don't.

"Wine. _Now_ ," I demanded, motioning to a servant, simply to break the silence. The servant jumped nervously, her eyes turning towards Tamlin. Tamlin nodded and she scurried away. I sighed.

I opened my mouth again but then Tamlin blurted, as if he couldn't hold it in anymore, as if it was the only thought in his mind, "Have you touched her?" Internally, fury pulsed in my veins and I couldn't even breathe for a moment, digesting his accusation. Hurt Feyre? Take away the one thing that Amarantha took away from me? And not only that, but was that really the first thing he thought of? Rather than being worried that I'm hosting her in the Court of Nightmares or terrified that Feyre was ruined psychologically for life, he was terrified that I had seduced his delicate pet. That she was tainted.

"Do explain, Tamlin," I heard myself say, forcing myself not to show my weakness and, for Feyre to realize that Tamlin is, simply and foremost, a dick. A second later, wine started to be brought out, along with food. A large roast, vegetables, potatoes, the normal foods that would be served at a royalty party. While Feyre began to scoop various foods, I merely plucked a green grape off one of the garnishes.

"Touch her," Tamlin repeated, in disgust. "Did you touch my beautiful-"

"Does it matter?" I asked, impatience running on my tongue. "What are you going to do, hurt me? While she's chained to me?" I rolled my eyes. "You really have forgotten how to approach politics. Don't let your weaknesses drive you, Tam." He squeezed the utensil in his hand so powerfully that it began to bend. Feyre gawked at me.

"Tamlin, he didn't touch me," she said, almost defensive. "I would never let him-"

"Don't bother, Feyre-darling," I chortled. "He won't believe you anyways." And I was right. No matter what she said, he would never believe her.

"Whatever," he muttered. "I'm done with this dinner nonsense already, it's a waste of my time. Just give her back!" I blinked at him multiple times.

"Jeeze, Tam, aren't you hungry?" I asked, mocking him now. "You should always eat before a temper tantrum." He huffed once or twice, then, though it was no surprise, he let out a animalist roar that rang throughout the dining room. While I stayed still as stone, many of the chairs got knocked over, food flew from a few of our plates, even windows cracked.

"Tamlin!" Feyre shouted. Tamlin's eyes hooked onto hers, and he let go of the destroyed utensil and sat deeper into his chair. He looked tired. Exhausted. Death-hungry.

"If you think I'm just giving her back in the middle of dinner, you're a moron," I said, plucking off a second green grape. His face flooded with redness.

"You wrote me and told me if I gave you Elain-"

"And do I _see_ Elain?" I said, peering around. "No, I only see your servants shaking in fear." Mor let out a low laugh, and Feyre looked torn between sides. On one hand, she thought I was a total jerk. On the other, I was right, and she knew it.

"What do you mean?" Nesta interrupted. My head jerked towards her, swallowing. She had been so silent through our dining charade that I had forgotten she was here. There wasn't anything on her plate.

"I wanted to see what Rhysand had to offer," Tamlin said, clipping his words sharply. Nesta stood up suddenly, causing her plate to knock over and crack.

"You have three seconds," Nesta said, her words strained, "to get my sister down here before I make you regret that you let me in here." His eyes narrowed at her.

"One," she said, looking down at him. He swallowed.

"Two," she said, louder. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Thr-" And then, as if the universe had come to life, a petit, elegant girl had ran into the room. Like a cue at a theater. Or a stage call. By the look on Tamlin's face, he obviously didn't like it.

"Elain," I heard Feyre whisper, relief in her tone.

"Lucien!" Tamlin growled, as soon as the beckoning redhead came running after her. He was wide-eyed and panting. "Do you not know how to follow orders?" Elain was already in Nesta's arms, hugging her tightly. I couldn't help but notice that Elain didn't have a scratch on her – and looked at the very least pampered, especially as a so-called prisoner. My eyebrows lifted up, my eyes on Lucien. He tried his best to meet Tamlin's furious eyes, but he kept glancing at Elain as if she was the only one who truly mattered.

"We're getting you out of here," Nesta said, gripping her sister's cheeks. "N-"

"Oh, no," Tamlin argued, his eyes on Nesta. "Sit down, Elain. And Lucien. We're having a diplomatic discussion and I think it's a good time to witness it now that you're here." Nesta looked like she was about to argue, but Elain sat quickly – and not only sat, but sat with Lucien.

"Oh, what is this," I said, under my breath. Feyre had heard me, swinging her head around in confusion. She saw the pattern as well, obviously.

"See, even if you say no, Rhysand," Tamlin said, clasping his shaking hands in front of him. "I will not let Feyre be your captive, not before I give away everything I have." The corner of my mouth twitched up.

"Be his captive?" Nesta spat, looking straight at Lucien. "Look at what you did to my sister!" We all, everyone at the table, looked at Elain and Lucien. Even though neither of them were touching each other and were at reasonable distance, there was some invisible thread that was obviously there. Some connection that mortals had issues understanding, but fae weren't strangers to the issue.

 _She was his mate._

But I didn't want to say it out loud. Not when there was already so much tension, not when there was so much to lose.

"We are not your enemies, Nesta," Tamlin tried to say but she rolled her eyes at him, then turned back towards Elain and Lucien.

"This isn't who we are," Nesta said to her, stingingly. "We aren't like them." I saw pain flicker across Feyre's face, realizing that she meant her as well. Tamlin looked like he was about to blow up again, but then Lucien took Elain's hand comfortably.

"It's…" Elain looked at Lucien deeply, making me want to gag. "It's different now, Nesta." Nesta banged her hands on the table.

"It's my fault," Lucien said apologetically, before Nesta could lash out again. "We've…gotten close here. If anything, blame me." Nesta looked at Elain, and then Lucien again.

"Oh, it is certainly your fault, don't let that escape you," Nesta growled. "You left me to die." This time, Elain flinched. There were tears in her eyes, and it had finally occurred to me that she actually probably felt bad about the charade. Maybe she wasn't just some foolish girl in love. Maybe she loved Nesta just as much.

"What if _they_ are the bad ones?" Elain said, her eyes flickering to me. "Tamlin and Lucien have both apologized for their actions, but what about them?" What about us? I wanted to ask. We didn't do anything wrong, aside from taunting Tamlin a bit.

I tried not to seem mad, "Elain, these men have brainwashed you. If you had any sense of what you were doing, you would've ran away a long time ago. They're evil." And while Nesta certainly didn't like me that much, she seemed appreciative of my interruption.

"Oh please," Lucien snorted. "You are the biggest ass on the planet." My head swung to Tamlin.

"Here is what's going to happen," I said, my eyes cold on Tamlin. "You will release Elain to her sister, and give them the choice on where they want to stay. They deserve free will." Tamlin touched the rim of his goblet.

"And what about Feyre?" He asked.

"Feyre has agreed to assist me on a mission," I said quickly. "But after that, I-"

"Assist you? On what?! Feyre, what is he talking about?" Tamlin bursted, and she shrunk into her seat. "You've been through enough with Amarantha." Both me and Feyre sucked in a breath just by hearing her name. "You don't have to do anything." Lucien nodded in agreement, but half-heartedly.

"Oh, she does," I said crossly. "We have agreed that her powers will be worth serving." Lucien leaned so far forward that his wine spilled all over the table and Tamlin was on his feet.

"Powers?" Lucien asked.

"She will not be using any powers!" Tamlin bellowed. At that moment, I realized that he knew too. Whether through a high priestess or he finally gained some wits, he wasn't new to this idea.

"I have to," Feyre said, finally. "He has a point." Tamlin laughed at that, a dark chuckle. Lucien put it into consideration.

"King Hypbern wants to take down the wall," Feyre continued. "Please, Tamlin, understand." Elain began whispering to Lucien, and Lucien tried to reassure her but even he looked like he was about to get sick. Nesta had again gone milky-white.

"Even if that's true, it isn't any of your business," Tamlin said shortly. Feyre's mouth gaped a bit.

"Tamlin, that's my home-"

"NO! This is your home, Feyre!" He roared, making the table tremble again.

"She has a right to fight and she made me a deal," I said, my voice low but cool. "You can't do anything about it, Tamlin, so how about you make this easy and at least let Feyre be happy?" He shook his head.

"It won't happen," he said. Lucien looked horribly uncomfortable.

"Tamlin, maybe-"

"Did I ask for your opinion, Lucien?" Tamlin snarled. "This is my court and I say _no_."

"It's my choice!" Feyre said, angry as well now. "Tamlin, I won't be gone forever. It'll be brief." He looked at her darkly, but then he gave me a smile.

"It's too late anyways," he said, to me specifically. I stood up straighter.

"What do you mean?" I said, looking at him deeper now. He was hiding something.

"You ate the food, Feyre?" Tamlin asked, his voice unnervingly calm. Feyre looked shaky, incapable of following his soothing words as she had realized how angry he truly was.

"Of course, but-"

"It's final," Tamlin said. "You're safe. No more of this fighting – she is bound to me!" I didn't understand at first, because there was so much fact in his voice, so much certainty, that I felt like it wasn't a demand – it was a fact. Within half a second, I realized he actually _had_ done something. This wasn't just a diplomatic meal. And then there was silence, horrible silence. I looked at the garnish of grapes, and then at the rest of the colorful, delicious food. I then stared at Tamlin and his empty plate.

"You didn't eat anything," I whispered. _It was a trick_. I turned my head entirely to look at Feyre, who looked at him like she was going to puke. She was eyeing her half eaten plate like it was poisonous, her face filled with repulsion. She was gripping the table harshly.

I had a certain satisfaction, short but still satisfaction, when Feyre blinked at him stupidly. "What," she said, slowly, even a little bit betrayed, "Did you do, Tamlin?" Tamlin's expression didn't even falter, despite Feyre's disapproved tone. He crossed his arms tightly, trying to look down at me though I was a few inches taller.

"In your drink, Feyre," Tamlin said, his eyes still on me. "I put magic in it, so you'll never have to leave again. So you'll be safe from _him_." My eyes went back to the wine again, now understanding what he had done. What he had committed.

"You put something in the drink and the food," I unraveled. "You have cursed her." It was like he slapped the smug look off my face within two seconds. My whole body felt like jello, thinking about what he had just done. He looked victorious, smirking a bit as if he had won a battle, but all I could see was a maniac.

"This is where she needs to be," Tamlin said crossly. "She'll never have to bear your corruption again." I opened my mouth, but then a choking sound came out of Feyre beside me. Immediately, my eyes shot in her direction, already leaning towards her, but her face merely paled and was staring at Tamlin in horror. Like she finally realized he was the villain.

"You…you are making it impossible for me to leave the grounds?" She asked, not even blinking as she spoke. "I can't ever leave. I can't ever go into the woods. I'll…I'll die here." Even Lucien was looking at Tamlin like he had gone mad. Completely utterly mad.

"It's for your own good," Tamlin told her, but not as if she was an equal. Like she was a pet. An escort. A child. I snarled at him, my un-chained hand on the table harshly, making black wisps rise into the air.

"How _dare_ you," I growled, anger slowly growing in me as I realized what he had done – what he had said. "You imbecile. You _coward_. You treacherous fool." He squinted at me.

"She is mine," he argued. "And now you can never take her away." And then I suddenly realized where he got this marvelous idea from. Mortals believed in it – that fae could trap them just by eating their food. And that they would be trapped forever. He saw Feyre no better than a mortal – he didn't know how strong she was and I could tell he really didn't care.

I laughed darkly, peering into the goblet in humor as I swirled the liquid around. "Nicely done, Tamlin. Using mortal fairytales to trap me. I had forgotten how mediocre your ideas are. Shame that you couldn't foresee the consequences of being an utter moron." Feyre looked back at me, as if she were about to argue, but she still in awe of Tamlin's actions. His lips curled back.

"Tricked you," he shot back. I gave him a cold smile, yanking up my chained wrist, causing Feyre to yank up hers with a painful yelp.

"Didn't accomplish much," I pointed out, eyeing that she, despite his actions, was still mine. "I think you fucked up, my friend. As long as she's here, so am I."

 **Thank you reading! I appreciate it greatly! Reviews motivate me so whether or not its one word or fifteen, please review! If I don't get reviews, I can't write ))): Also, sorry for the errors**


	5. Chapter 5

There was a dangerous silence between the two of us – Tamlin weighing his options, me waiting for him to strike. The last time we had a moment like this, a moment of silence over power, we had both become High Lords. Through blood and murdering the innocent, with our hands trembling and terror running through both of our bodies because we weren't _ready_. It wasn't supposed to happen – it wasn't something either of us craved nor were prepared for. Tamlin had earned it unfairly, as we had murdered his brothers, but I also wasn't raised to be royalty. Even when I was young and daring, I for some reason never thought it was a possibility, as I saw myself as an Illyarian and nothing more. I was raised to think that my father's blood hadn't been passed down to me, that being a High Lord wasn't even a possibility, and I was okay with it. And then when Tamlin slaughtered my father in his doorway, something I had never fathom could happen, I was so unfamiliar with the feeling of ultimate power that I thought it must be a mistake. But things had changed. I wasn't _born_ to bestow power, I _taught_ myself to bestow power. I was no longer afraid of my power, nor foolish enough to try and suppress it. Tamlin, contrastingly, didn't look any different than he had so many years ago. He was secluded, distant from his troublesome lands, trying to run away from his title. He had very few things to lose compared to me.

"Who knew the strongest Illyarian to ever live would resort to such childishness. Your superiors must be so proud."

And then, just because he tempted me, I couldn't help it. I plucked one of the cursed grapes off the garnishes, held it in between my thumb and pointer finger for a second, pretending that the fruit was Tamlin's head, and then bounced it off the table. It hit him square on the nose, making his face scrunch together dramatically. I sniggered. But nobody else even let out a breath.

"The sheer nerve," I heard Feyre whisper, almost in admiration. I stood up on my feet, forcing Feyre up with me, holding my head high and towering over him from the other side of the table. He had always been shorter than me – something that give me a tinge of extra ego. My eyes, dark as night, swept around the table quickly, eyeing both my opponents and friends.

"The ones who aren't dead would say so," I smirked, my hands digging into my pockets and watched as his face slowly swelled with rage.

"Unhook her," Tamlin said in response, flushed with redness.

"Nope."

"Unhook her, _now._ "

"Maybe later."

"Rhysand, I swear-"

"Beg me." He was still for a moment, trying to stare me down but I could only smile at him.

"Go on," I instructed, in a silky-smooth voice as I eyed the rich carpet. "Don't worry, Tamlin, you wouldn't be the first to go on your knees for me." Tamlin, his teeth barred and his talons out viciously, jerked his eyes towards Lucien, and then back at me, as if an idea had finally popped into his tiny nut-sized brain.

"Take her," Tamlin said. My lip twitched down.

"What?" I asked, my voice cracking at the end. My hands slowly unraveled out of my pockets. He nodded his head towards Elain.

"Take her and get out. Take her and _leave me alone_ ," He snarled and I merely blinked at him repeatedly.

"You really should have just groveled on the ground," I drawled immediately.

And within half a second, yells from the others were thrown around the room from all ends. Elain was pulled to her feet, thrusted behind Lucien while he swung out his dagger at all of us, as if like a cornered dog. Nesta, beside me, let out a ragged breath, but I didn't know if it was in horror or relief.

"Tamlin, have you lost it?" Lucien roared, and in all of the unfortunate years I have known him, I had never seen him so livid. He was in the opposite corner of the room now, poor Elain smothered to the wall. "After all I have done for you, you try to- _I won't let you_!" Tamlin didn't even hear him. There was a blazed look in his eyes – his posture defensive but shaky. He had gone nuts. Absolutely insane. Tamlin was normally a rational person, so much that it made him a bit dull, but he had completely lost it.

 _And it was all my fault_ , I thought. _All of it_.

"Tamlin, that's my sister!" Feyre said, maddened. "Tamlin-" But then Tamlin merely snapped his fingers, and suddenly Elain was next to me, shivering in fear. She looked up at me like I was going to personally cut her up into tiny little pieces with one breath and feed her to the dogs. I peered down at her, one of my eyebrows arched up curiously, watching at how entirely-mortal she really was. Fragile, innocent, terrified.

"What? You think I want _this_?" I said, bellowing so loudly that the poor girl jumped. "To make this weak, mortal trash my wife? My lover? Puh- _lease_. Just because Feyre-darling is driven by sex, doesn't mean I am." I felt Feyre's glare, and Lucien's roars were growing so loud that I was truly concerned that it may take out my eardrum. Tamlin had magically blocked him from getting to us, but that didn't make him any less annoying.

Nesta, who was on the opposite side of me and must've seen past my cruel persona, grabbed Elain by the shoulders and looked at me with an icy glare as she hissed, "Oh, shut up and let's go." But I couldn't move. I was frozen in time.

"Isn't that what you want?" Tamlin asked, his voice very soft. "To get my goat? Dominate my rule? Take one of these woman and use her as your own? Isn't that why you came?" And I wasn't going to lie, maybe a few years ago I would've done that. There was a time when I was broken and cruel too, and Tamlin had finally hit the spot. Maybe that's why I hated him. Because he would never stop reminding me.

"Good boy, Tamlin. You're finally catching on," I said, clapping sarcastically. "But I don't just want Elain. I need Feyre." Not want, _need_. "And I don't want you attempting to murder my people and forcing me to wipe you off the map simply because you want your lovely doll back." Azriel leaned close to me and I could sense Feyre reading my face. Surely, she wanted to speak out. I'm sure she even had something witty on her tongue, but for some reason she was waiting. Watching. Observing. Staying quiet.

"He's breaking," Azriel whispered, as he could read Tamlin's body far better than I can even if I did go inside his head. "I think we have a better shot at taking the sisters and go. Feyre will find her way back to us." And by the glance Mor shot at me, I could tell she thought he was right.

It was an offer to consider. I couldn't just go back with none of them – winning this battle seemed less and less likely. While he had only one thing to lose, I have many. Taking back Nesta and Elain would be the least I could do, as I knew being stuck here would probably kill them. Mortals can adapt to the Fae world, but they can't be imprisoned into an estate like pets. No doubt that Lucien would push poor Elain into a marriage, and Nesta would probably end up clawing Tamlin's eyes out. A selfish part of me, the smart part of me, wanted to just focus on Feyre, but I saw something in the other two, Nesta especially. Maybe it was the brokenness that showed on everything from their eyes to their bones, or possibly the unique fire both of them held, but they reminded me of my friends. And I couldn't just let them go.

"Not going to happen," Tamlin said. "You'll have her next month when you have those two weeks. Not now, not when I…" His voice trailed off, his eyes looking a million miles away.

"And what about what I want?" It came out of Feyre. Lucien, who had still been screaming, ceased. We all looked at her, me looking at her with desperation. Her voice came out full, not a hint of fear.

"Feyre, I can't just-"

"You've done enough," she snapped, and he stepped back. "This is my battle to pick as well, Tamlin. Even if this _prick_ doesn't know it." He was silent, his face softening and looking like he might throw up. And my heart couldn't stop beating because, I realized quickly, I had won the battle. I had won it.

"He can't just stay at my house," Tamlin argued after a moment. Feyre shot me a look of hesitation, as if thinking the same thing. Before she could say anything, I interrupted.

"I'm stuck here anyways, you know," I also pointed out, adding onto the dread that layered on Tamlin's face. "I ate the food as well, Tam-Tam." But thankfully, Azriel and Mor hadn't. Neither had Nesta or Elain. They were safe. They could go back if they wanted to.

"And since," I continued, looking at Feyre and I's chained wrists, "I'm stuck here, these are a bit unnecessary. Unless, of course, Feyre likes being chained up." She let out an annoyed huff, but with a wave of my free hand, the dark mists disappeared. Feyre looked at Tamlin jerkily as she touched her now-empty wrist. It was like she contemplating running to him, but she froze. Her body stiffened and for a moment I wondered of whether or not she was happy that I unchained her, that I had let her go.

Tamlin, on the other hand, looked like he could finally breathe. He was still wary, still furious, but he could finally breathe. I could barely look at him. I had won, but at a cost. Though she hated me, though I probably seemed worse than Tamlin, I had to trust that she would use her instincts.

"I hope you won't stab me in the back," I hissed to her, too low for Tamlin to hear. "I'm on your side." Tamlin didn't even notice I was speaking to her. Instead, he waved his hand and the invisible barrier that separated Lucien and us disappeared. He raced towards Elain, ripping her out of Nesta's arms and hugging her. Elain didn't seem to mind.

"What about us?" Nesta growled. There was an uncomfortable silence, as nobody knew how to handle it. But it was Azriel who had spoken. "Are we just expected to live here too?"

"I did not eat the food," Azriel said to her, his voice soft. Too soft. "I will escort you back if you want to." She glanced at him, her eyes wary, but she didn't seem against it. For a moment I even thought there was some redness on her cheeks.

"That would be-"

"No!" Elain bursted. Nesta stepped back, glaring at her with a look of surprise and possibly betrayal. I glanced at Feyre with a risen eyebrow, who looked so surprise that her eyebrows were perked up as well. The rest of us though – those who saw and understood the mating ordeal, didn't look surprised at all.

"Elain," Nesta hissed, "Do you really-"

"I, well, I've grown comfortable here," Elain stumbled, glancing up at Lucien and blushing so hard that even I was embarrassed, "and-and well, Lucien here, he…uh…he told me he would show me around. You know, just for a little bit." Nesta's hands were in such tight balls that I could see the whites of her knuckles and staring at her like hell had erupted.

"These-these beasts," Nesta said, and I huffed, "tried murdering you! We're leaving." But Elain merely shook her head persistently.

"Well, if you want to leave so badly, we could always just take you back by yourself," Mor offered, entirely genuine. But Nesta's nostrils flared.

"Where," she said, clipping her words shortly at Tamlin, "Is my room?" He blinked at her repeatedly, and Lucien was beaming.

"You'll stay?" Lucien said to them both, jumping up and down like a little girl. Internally, I groaned. "Elain, you're staying!"

"You can stay anywhere," Tamlin said, though his voice was leaking with exhaustion. "Anywhere. Take your pick. Theres a whole floor of empty rooms upstairs." Feyre was silent as Nesta dragged Elain up the staircase, and I wondered what they had done to her. Surely, by the silence Feyre had barred throughout the entire conversation, was caused by something in the past, and I couldn't necessarily tell if she was happy with the conclusion. As if she didn't want her sisters here at all.

"So, when do we begin?" Mor interrupted. Tamlin's face shifted and the High Lord of Spring had awoken again.

"If Tamlin is done having his panies in a bunch," I shot at him, "We could start right now." Feyre turned towards me fully, whipping around like a snake.

"And what are we doing exactly?" She asked, almost accusingly. I noticed how Tamlin slowly started drifting to our side of the table.

"Since my military leader isn't here," I said, talking about Cassian, "I will be training you." Tamlin's teeth barred once again.

"I have a skilled warrior right there who can easily train Feyre," Tamlin argued, motioning to Lucien who was, frankly, still beaming in excitement as he stared at the stairwell. When Tamlin noticed Lucien's inability to pay attention, his face faltered.

"Clearly," I snorted, "Lucien is too busy getting _excited_ over other things." Tamlin gave out a beastly growl and Lucien turned towards him immediately, standing in position. I gave him a wide smile.

"And you think I trust you enough to train with you?" Feyre scowled. "You kidnapped me." My lips immediately shifted into a tight line.

"I was fighting on the battlefields before Lucien and Tamlin were even born," I hissed defensively. "I'm pretty sure I know-"

"If you want me to play your games," she interrupted, her hands on her hips, "I'm training with Lucien as well. We'll train together if you really want, but he is still training with me." I took a heavy breath. Normally, I would've just walked away from someone who dared to negotiate having me as a trainer, but her eyes held onto me and I wasn't even sure if I was fully breathing.

"Very well, then, Feyre-darling," I said, a tad mockingly. "You shall train with Lucien and I in the morning, and then with me again in the afternoons." She looked at me skeptically, but then gave me a harsh nod. I then turned my direction to Azriel and Mor, who were standing awkwardly beside me. They looked unsettled – as if they should be doing something but didn't know what their next step was.

"Azriel, Mor," I said, "You can go ahead and follow Tamlin's advice – go pick a room." They both nodded at me hesitantly, and then went up the large staircase. Once they disappeared, Tamlin was glowering at me.

"Your lackeys staying here wasn't a part of our agreement," he growled. "You're testing my patience." I didn't even bother paying attention to him. Instead, I shoved my hands in my pockets and turned towards Feyre.

"Well, as thrilling as this absolutely was," I said, accidentally getting caught in her blue-grey eyes as I pretended to yawn, "I'm going to go find a room myself, but be ready in an hour. Don't even think about being late."

~disicium~

When I found a vacant room, I didn't just find a bed – I found Azriel and Mor as well. They were both pouting at me, as usual, but there was only so much I could say to them.

"What?" I drawled. Mor was only a few feet away from her, her hands on her hips, and Azriel was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over the other.

"This isn't going to work," Mor said. My lips pressed into a tight line as I stared back at her.

"No shit," I gasped dramatically, "I thought this was a wonderful plan!" The corner of Azriel's lips perked up for just a moment, until he noticed the look on Mor's face. Disappointment. Anger.

"We lost you for the fifty years," Mor told me, as if I didn't already know that. "Don't you want a break? Just for a few weeks?" My face hardened, my hands turning into cold fists.

"My mate is locked into my second-most-enemy's house house, as so am I," I pointed out. Azriel didn't even blink.

"We both know that the 'curse' does nothing to you," He said dryly. "Even in the slightest possibility that the curse even holds against your strength, you could break it with the blink of an eye."

"Maybe even Feyre's too," I muttered, a bit darkly. "But I don't want to. I've already crossed lines. I don't want to cross anymore. She's one of us, I can feel it."

"Do you feel that way because she's your mate or because she truly is?" Mor snarled. Suddenly, without even remembering taking a step, I was in front of her. Nose to nose.

"Mor," I said, slowly. "Of all people, I thought you'd be the one to protect my mate. Who would encourage this. You were the first one-"

"And it's inconvenient," Azriel said, his voice cold as ice. "If she's one of us, she'll find us. She'll come back to us."

"We care about your mate," Mor said, adding onto his comment. "But…but we just lost you! For fifty bloody years! And now you're getting yourself tangled in Tamlin's mess, and I…we don't condone it." My eyes narrowed at her, and then at Azriel. Azriel, probably instinctively, took a step off the wall and grew closer to Mor.

"You'll lose me forever if I don't get her back," I told Mor, my voice cracking at the end. "I can't…I don't think I can survive without her now. Maybe if I hadn't kidnapped her, maybe if I had let her go in the beginning, but I just can't do it. Not now. Not anymore."

~*~ discidium~*~

"You are late." Turns out, Tamlin hadn't even bothered renovating the place, despite undying wish to waste away here. Not in centuries, at least. I had no issue finding myself around, even purposely getting lost once or twice. So, it almost made a dent in my patience when Feyre couldn't even get here in time. Thankfully, she was at least in a tanktop and shorts – something that she could work out in. I couldn't help but scan her body, a mix between worry and curiosity. What marks were from the physical abuse and what flaws were caused by the emotional abuse? What does she look like underneath her clothes, and what would she look like if she was tangled in my sheets?

"Bite me," she growled. And then I noticed it – amongst the fading bruises that there was a new one, one on the side of her neck. It looked nearly punctured, more of a bite than a bruise, and there was a flash of anger pulse through my body, but it didn't show across my face.

"Already giving away your body to Prince Charming?" I shot. Her hand went to her neck, covering it instinctively, with blush filling her cheeks, but she scowled at me again.

"Already being a complete prick?" She shot back. The anger in me disappeared and I smirked at her.

"So," I said, stepping towards her. I noticed how she stiffened. "Since Tamlin has insisted on suppressing the most beautiful part of you, how about we work on your powers first?" Her shoulders crouched forward just at the sound of the word.

"I'd rather not," she said coolly.

"There's nothing to be fearful of," I said. "Powers shouldn't be feared. They should be utilized. Nothing can control you unless you want it to." I held out my hand, showing how black wisps of smoke raised out of my palm. Her eyes followed the wisps until they vanished above us.

"I-I don't know what powers I have," she said, her eyes hard. "I don't-"

"Feel yourself," I said. She frowned.

"Feel yourself," I said again. "Recognize the feeling of the blood in your veins, the rhythm of your pulse, your breath. That's where your powers come from. It's all about mind-body dualism. If you can control your medulla, you can do anything." I showed her, for example, as I started to breath harsher, the wisps grew larger and faster, rapidly filling the room in black smoke, but before it could suck us into the darkness, I pulled my breath back in, feeling the powers shift in my veins. She looked around, trying to suppress the impressed look on her face as she watched the black whisps disappear but failed.

"Just breathe," she whispered to herself. She deepened her breathing rapidly, huffing as hard as she could.

"You're breathing too fast," I said quickly. "It's not just the physical part of it. Feel it. Put your emotions in it. Feel how breathing hard changes your body, not just-" And then, within a second, I saw a reaction. Her breathing, while still deep, slowed down, and she closed her eyes as she memorized the feeling of air going in and out of her lungs. Suddenly, barely-noticible icicles showed up at the ends of her fingers.

"The Power of Winter," I whispered. She looked down and then tipped on the back of her heel as she brought the icicles to her face. She was in awe.

"Now, do it again." As our training went on, I began going hard on her. She didn't need patience – she needed instruction. Motion. To keep going. Despite the fact that she hadn't really accomplished anything but the icicles, the storm of her emotions in her eyes seemed to grow more under control, sometimes even calming her.

"Great," I said dryly, probably an hour later. "You've accomplished the art of not excelling. I'm sure those icicles will protect you when a whole legion-"

"Is that all you're going to teach me?" She snapped back. "Because I'm pretty sure King Hypbern doesn't care if ice can come out of my fingers." I stepped closer to her.

"No, he will not," I agreed. "But the Lord of Winter will, as will the rest of our beautiful neighbors when they figure out you have powers. And trust me – they'll either kill you or worse." Her eyebrows rose up, as if trying to consider what could be worse than death.

"Reproducing with a woman who holds power of every court?" I mused. "Their children would be invincible. Their courts would be invincible." The color on her face drained, her eyes seeming a thousand miles away.

"And, because I don't want anyone daring to step over my land because their sweet little munchkins have a bit of talent," I went on, "It would be great if you knew how to defend yourself with your powers, rather than just making it plain that you have them." Her eyes were emotionless, still outcasted. But I knew what she was thinking about – Tamlin, having babies. Moving on.

"Whatever, we're done with that," I said, and her eyes came back to reality. "I have a bigger issue. I'm tired of hearing your thoughts." She stepped back for a moment, her eyes wide.

"You've been reading my mind?" She asked. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I gave out a dark chuckle.

"Yes, Feyre, I just want to waste my day reading your mind," I continued to laugh. "No, Feyre-darling, oddly enough, this is your fault. You keep sending me snippits of what's going on in your brain. And while you are so entertaining to talk to, your thoughts are beginning to become annoying." And they were, in a way. While I was yet to get a full sentence, I could feel her feelings, see what she is seeing. It gave me chills knowing that she was constantly drowning in emotions but I couldn't exactly pinpoint why.

She looked like she was going to get sick.

"If you really want to blame me, go for it," I said, giving her a bow. "I probably gave it to you anyways, with the talent of mind reading." Her lips pursed, but I wasn't entirely sure if I was correct. Did I see her thoughts because of my powers passed down to her? Because of our bargain? Because we were mates? It was probably a mix, but I still wasn't interested.

"How do I block it?" She asked, a little desperately. I prowled around her, trying to think of a good way to explain it.

"Your mind is a castle," I said. "A castle with a gate, and as long as that gate is unlocked, anyone can see your thoughts. You can exert them to anyone and anyone can walk in. So close it. Close that gate." She closed her eyes, thinking.

"Imagine it. Lock the gates, put a cement wall around them, put lions to guard them, weave an indestructible cloth. Whatever you fancy," I said. "Just put as many layers as you can." And I looked into her mind lightly, as well. I felt a tinge of trembling, but I could still see inside. If I tried, I could see anything I wanted – thoughts, memories, but that's not how I wanted to know her. How I wanted to love her. I wanted her to tell me.

"Harder," I growled. "If you don't lock those gates, anyone can see them." And just to give her a snippit, I zoomed inside, catching memories. Lucien snarling at her, her killing a wolf, her making love to Tamlin for the first time. I threw them back at her, mocking her, and then suddenly-

"STOP!" She yelled, and her walls closed so hard that I tumbled back, dizzy but smiling.

"There you go," I said, clapping, but she looked less than thrilled. "Now I know you can finally achieve something."

"I think I'm done," she growled. I looked towards the sun, and it had barely moved.

"It's barely past lunch," I said, my eyes twinkling. "Don't tell me you're going to give up now." But she was already walking away. Something had caught her, I noticed. Something I did had hit a spot that she didn't want me to hit.

"Feyre, wait-" But then she walked out of the training arena and closed the door behind her.

I sighed. Because I didn't want her to hate me. I just wanted her to want to get to know me. ~

~*~ discidium~*~

A few minutes after I lingered in the training room stupidly, just staring at the closed door, I raced out and tried to find her. But either she was already twisting in the sheets with dear old Tamlin or she was hiding in a cupboard somewhere. Either way, she was avoiding me. It barely dipped into the afternoon and I had already lost her. It wasn't necessarily my best work.

I was still circling the fifth level when I heard voicing coming from a closed room. Slowly, I put my ear to the door, hoping – or maybe not hoping – that Feyre was in there.

"She's my sister." It was Elain. I felt an odd sense of relief go through me, a feeling I didn't expect. But either way, I was already here. Walking away from her voice and not taking the opportunity to eavesdrop seemed counterproductive.

"I know, Elain, I know, but-"

"Lucien, I love you." I nearly gagged. "I would love to go to the Autumn Court with you, but I can't leave Nesta." My eyebrows rose like Lucien's penis probably was right now. The Autumn Court? The last time I checked, Lucien had been banished. Or, rather, scared away. Either way, going back to the Autumn Court would not only prove his stupidity but get him, and his beautiful doe, killed.

"Nesta," I heard the distate in Lucien's tongue, though it may have surpassed Elain's ears, "She'd be fine here. Tamlin won't hurt her." But then there was a stiff silence. Elain didn't catch me as someone who would argue, who would get defensive easily, but the silence was still unnerving.

"Laney," Lucien said, and I shivered, "I know he did bad things, but I wouldn't dare-"

"She has a point you know," Elain said, quietly. "I left her. And Tamlin tried murdering her. Maybe I am on the wrong side." I heard a pair of footsteps run across the room quickly, and a breath of air.

"Rhysand is a git," Lucien said simply, true despise filling his voice. "A murdering, torturous git who, in the past fifty years, has done nothing but fuck a monster and mock Tamlin's court. I once saw him look at Feyre like he wanted to rip her into shreds in Tamlin's own study. They may have been merciful to Nesta, but don't let their masks fool you." My nostrils flared, but what did I expect? Lucien had never been anything more than a simple, hot-headed child who, like Tamlin, couldn't think like a ruler. Did they both really think that I truly treat my people like the rumors tell?

"Well, I don't want to leave my sister," Elain said. "Neither of them, actually. Even if it gets me killed, I owe them both." And then there was silence again, but it seemed like a loving silence. Like he possibly took the opportunity to stroke her cheek or she had persisted on kissing him. I envied it.

"What if you don't have to?" Lucien said. "Tamlin…Rhysand is right about one thing. This is out of character. Drugging your sister and forcing her to stay with him? Trying to kill Nesta? It's not like him. He may be defensive, but he isn't insane. Which is why we should…think about our options. I'm not sure if staying at this court is any better than staying at Rhysand's." I was so close to the door that I was scared I would lose my balance and fall through it.

"But I would have to leave Nesta," Elain said. And I knew that was the end of the conversation. There was a slight silence, maybe just a pause, until I heard a gasp of surprise and a mix between smooching and moaning. Repulsed, scowling, I back away from the door.

But I couldn't help but wonder what safe haven the Autumn Court held that Lucien was dying to meet.

 **Thank you for all the reviews! Please, give me as many as possible! And the constructive criticism was great! The more reviews, the better. I don't know if people want more if they don't review. Also, sorry for the errors.**


	6. Chapter 6

_"_ _I'm not ready." She had said it loud and clear, but there was a crack at the end of her voice. Like she was debating, like it was still wandering in her head aimlessly, unsure of her own thoughts. I felt my hands going up and down her, touching every scar and brushing against every wound, trying to find her again. She was trembling. Naked and trembling. I didn't want her to tremble anymore._

 _"_ _Feyre-" But I choked. She looked terrified – her pupils were huge in fear and she looked as pale as a ghost. Though she was below me, tousled in my covers as I leaned over her, she looked like she would rather be a million miles away. In the window behind me, blue-black darkness covered the grounds, speckled with stars high above. It was night time, and finally we were together. My hands were still tracing her body, feeling the softness, everything that nobody else would ever touch. I wanted her. I needed her. I needed her to feel me, for me to feel her._

 _"_ _I know you want to…" Her voice was unusually delicate. As if trying to be careful on how she worded it. "But don't you think we should think about this? Take some time?" To think about what? We were together, that's all that mattered. I knew that I had failed lately, trying to show my love. Trying to get her to come back to me. Trying to get her to see me past my monstrous ways. I had to prove to her that we could get past this, that she was my destiny._

 _"_ _I don't need time," I said, my voice but a whisper. "I've never stopped wanting you."_

 _My fingers slipped up her thigh, no longer tracing her lightly but stroking her in the most sensitive of spots._

 _"_ _We deserve to feel better," I continued, my lips to her ear. "We deserve to be happy." I began to put my fingers under her panties and she flinched, abnormally stiff. Internally, I felt a slight spark of anger, but I knew it was only because of her trauma that she was hesitating. She had gone through more than most immortals could bear. But if I reminded her how good we could feel, she would be okay again, as would I. Our love was strong enough to get us through this, our love was stronger than anything I have ever felt. She wouldn't look so broken anymore. I took my fingers away from her for a moment, letting her breathe. Letting her take it in slowly._

 _"_ _I know, I know," she said, fast. "But…" Her eyes watched as I took off my own trousers, throwing it behind me and onto the wood floor. And then there was silence. Loud silence. Just me and her. All of our vulnerabilities and desires in front of us. She was still, unemotional. She didn't even take a breath. Instead, she kept staring at the trousers, almost longingly._

 _"_ _We can't do it," she said, clearer now, her eyes far away, but her words barely reached my ears. I began to peel off her panties, slowly trailing it down her legs. When she looked back at me there wasn't a trace of emotion. Like she wasn't a person but a cast of what she once was. I needed her to feel again. I needed her to know what love was again. I needed her back._

 _"_ _He's not here," I reassured. "He can't hurt you here. He can't take this away from us." She let out a breath._

 _"_ _I know that," she said softly and I smiled. Relief swept through me – warm, contagious relief. If anything, I was glad to know that his manipulation had only gone so far. That there was a chance my dear Feyre would be normal, be able to be who she once was before he had made an imprint on her. To be mine._

 _My fingers trailed up there again, trying to feel for something. Wetness, a shiver, anything. She didn't even breathe. I let out a huff of disappointment, but I couldn't stop. Not now. I was already here – I had gotten this far._

 _"_ _I should," her voice shook, as I continued to touch her, "Go back to my room. If my sisters catch me here-"_

 _"_ _Is this about your sisters?" I asked, putting one finger in. Finally, she shivered. I felt her loosen, letting me feel around. But there was no gasp – she had barely gotten wet at all._

 _"_ _No," she said raggedly. "We need time to think. We shouldn't go this fast." While my hand was still in her, I began to kiss her neck. She loosened again, but only for a moment. I closed my eyes as I nibbled, imagining her without these scars. Trying to picture her as flawless, with no reminder of what we had gone through. No reminder of the sins we had committed. To be able to have a new life._

 _"_ _I'm sorry, okay?" I said, more casual than the thousands of apologies I've spewed tonight. "I'm sorry. How many times do I have to say it? How do I prove it? What can I do? Please, Feyre. Tell me." I looked up at her just to find pools of blue and grey. There were tears. Redness. Her fingers were clawing at the bed, but not for the reason I wanted._

 _"_ _Don't be upset, Feyre. Let me love you," I said, going deeper inside. "Let me show you-"_

 _"_ _No!" She yelped. My fingers ripped out of her immediately. At first there was just silence, our gazes hooked onto each other, but then the fire soared through me. Anger flashed all across my body, not feeling anything but my own rage flooding all over me, and for a second all I could think about was all the pain I had gone through. Anger from under the mountain. Anger from seeing that disgusting filth with her. All the anger I had felt since Amarantha had affected me. And yet, she still wouldn't try. Not for me. I tried to push it down, only to find myself jump on top of her and straddling her. I yanked her hands away from the bed roughly, and I heard a stifled cry. I pushed them to my heart, trying to get her to feel my warmness. To understand that we were together again. But her hands were clammy and cold._

 _"_ _You're hurting me," I heard her say, her voice trembling. "Let's just stop. We can try again tomorrow. I know I'll be able to do it tomorrow."_

 _I felt like I was out of my body. The look in her eyes – they weren't Feyre's. There was so much pain, so much distrust, so much cruelty. That wasn't the Feyre I knew. The Feyre I knew would already be on top of me, grinding on me, making me moan and not thinking about anything past ourselves and our lust. I wanted her to feel me again, to feel how good I could make her. To remind her of us. To remind her how beautiful we were._

 _"_ _What did he do to you?" I asked breathlessly, my eyes looking at her body again. Her marked, flawed body. I was trying to find the source, the physical wound that had started this nightmare. I wanted her back again, I wanted her to feel happy again. It made me nauseous thinking that maybe, possibly, she would never be the same again. Tears were falling down her cheeks._

 _"_ _Nothing," she promised. "It's not him. I'm overwhelmed. I-I just can't take this right now." I shook my head at her fast._

 _"_ _We went three months without me being able to touch you, we just need to be loved again. Don't you want me to?"  
"I do, of course I do. I love you, but…"_

 _"_ _Then let me make you feel loved," I said, my fingers tracing her face. I slowly pushed her legs away from each other._

 _"_ _No."_

 _"_ _It will be good for us," I said to her. "To feel each other again. To not feel alone."_

 _"_ _No! Would you listen to me, I don't want to!" She said suddenly, but my penis was already at her entrance. Even from the outside I knew she wouldn't be wet at all. She had forgotten what it felt like to love someone you love. She forgot how it made everything go away, how it made your nightmares turn into nothing._

 _"_ _I'm sorry," I said, and I meant it, "But you have to remember how we used to be. I can't lose you. Not like this. I won't let you." And I pushed myself in, pushing through her dry vagina, and forcing myself inside her. She tried ripping away, but my body weight held onto her, my fingers slipping into hers and pushing her down._

 _"_ _TAMLIN, STOP!"_

I woke up with sweat dripping all over me. I threw the covers off, letting them fall to the floor, and swerving my head around to look out the window. It was blue-black outside. Stars were speckling. There was a heavy weight in my chest, like I couldn't breathe. Like someone had hit me with the hilt of their sword and I was falling to my death. Like a string was pulling my heart so strongly that I felt like my body would tear apart if I didn't follow it. Her scream still ringing in my ears, I jumped from my bed and opened my bedroom door with a bang.

Not caring if anyone heard my desperate footsteps, I raced down the stairs. I didn't know where I was going – just knew where the string was tugging me, where the string was coming from. Where the source was. Where I needed to be.

I landed on the floor below the main floor, and then I heard it. From all the way down the hall, I heard it.

"Tamlin, I don't want to, please-"

"Just, relax, Feyre." I was running now.

"Please, please, it hurts. Let's try tomorrow-" I opened the door. And I swear, I swear to the cauldron, if I wasn't so unbearably angry I would've puked. I would've gotten sick all over the floor, dove to my knees, and screamed until my lungs gave out.

One moment I was looking at him ontop of her, his large hands holding down her frail body and his body too close to not be connected, and then he was pinned to a wall. He was already half beast as soon as I had grabbed him, but my heart was beating so loud, my eyes looking at him with such a murderous glare, that I could barely register what he was doing. I could've melted his brain, took out my talons and sliced him up, make him go mad with the memories of Amarantha.

But without thinking about it, without even thinking of my options, I punched him. And not a regular punch – an Illyarian punch. A punch hard enough to make someone unconscious, or worse. A punch hard enough that it would've made my superiors proud, despite my heritage. A punch that had every inch of my anger, my resentment, my hatred, in it.

I heard my breaths loud and ragged, but I couldn't feel them. I couldn't feel anything.

As Tamlin hit the floor, I dove towards Feyre. She had wrapped a bedsheet around herself, shaking. While there were no tears on her cheeks, I could tell she had been crying. She had been crying when he…when he…when he did _it_. She was saying something, but I couldn't hear her. All I could do was look at her – at how, despite my efforts to keep her together, she was now shattered in pieces. How that bastard broke her.

"Feyre," I said softly. I knew not to grab her. It reminded me of Mor, so long ago – when her parents had nailed a note to her body. When she said that she would never feel untainted. After that, Mor hadn't let anyone get within six feet of her for a month. Feyre had the same exact look in her eyes.

"Get away from me!" Feyre yelled. "Don-don't touch me!" There was terror in her eyes and for a second I felt it. The terror that was running in her veins was connected to mine. I didn't just feel fear though – I felt loss, I felt resentment. And I realized that Tamlin wasn't just the knight in shining armor that he was once supposed to be the one. He was supposed to be the one who didn't go crazy after Amarantha. Who didn't go insane.

"I won't," I said softly. "But Feyre-" I took a wary glance behind me, eyeing the unconscious shithead. "I have to get you out of here." When I looked back at her, she was shaking her head.

"I won't leave," she said, through her clenched teeth. "Not with you, not-"

"Then who are you going to go to?" I snarled back, my patience waning. "You're just going to stay here in this goddamned prison while he destroys you and rapes you? Is this the man you fell in love with? Because even if Tamlin has always been a pain in the ass, he was never this bad." Her breathing had stopped going so fast. Her eyes were staring into mine, and I could've sat there for a million years. I could look into those blue grey eyes and never stopped.

"I don't know," she said, her eyes falling to her lap. "But it doesn't matter. I'm bound here. I can't leave anyways-" I shook my head, interrupting her.

"You think I can't break his bullshit curses?" I said, my voice serious. "Feyre, I would've never let you back in here if I felt like he could overpower me. I'd…" She was looking at me like I was absolutely insane, and there was a possibility I was. There was no resentment, no anger, but there was confusion.

"Why would you ever care about me?" She asked, scowling. I stumbled. _Tell her,_ Mor's voice said in my head. _Tell her she's your mate and then kill that psychotic bastard for doing what he did to her.  
_ But then, before I could ever say it, Feyre said aloud, "He raped me. He just raped me." Her words seemed empty, too far from my grasp. My stomach dropped and I wanted to stroke her face, show her that I was here, but I knew I couldn't. Not now. Maybe not ever. And I was okay with that.

"I know he wasn't this bad before the trials, Feyre. Tamlin…he was an ass but he wasn't bad. So I didn't blame you earlier when you stayed with him even after what he did to your sisters," I said evenly, "But Amarantha took a toll on all of us, Feyre, and you don't see us raping people to feel better." Her eyes, for the first time today, seemed to glisten fully. Not in anger, not in resentment, but with admiration.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" She said, bringing the bedsheet to her face. I sighed, breathing out all of the excess emotions that had been piling on top of me.

"We are more alike than you think, Feyre-darling," I said, giving her a slight smirk. For a second, she even looked as if she might give me a playful scowl, but then her eyes caught Tamlin's body on the floor. I turned my head slightly, following her gaze.

"Unfortunately, he's not dead," I said, my eyebrows popping up slightly. "Just unconscious."

"Good," she said, making me straighten. "Because I have to stay here." My mouth opened immediately.

"Feyre," I said, trying to keep the anger out of my voice, "In all due respect, I think that's the stupidest thing that has ever came out of your mouth." She shook her head, sniffling.

"Elain won't leave Lucien, which means Nesta won't leave," she told me. I let out a loud, bellowing laugh, making her frown further.

"Fuck it," I said, giving her a mirthless smile, "I'll steal the three of them if that means getting you all out of this hell hole. If Lucien doesn't see that this alternate form of purgatory is toxic, then-"

"And I need him." My mouth closed immediately, blinking my eyes at her rapidly. _Maybe Tamlin wasn't the only one who had gone mad_ , I thought.

"Don't give me that look," Feyre scolded, "I'm not absolutely insane. I don't love him. I don't think…I don't think I have for a while." She looked at him longingly, and I knew what she was remembering. The trials. Watching as Tamlin did nothing. Waking up to a man who only saw her as a pet.

"Then why in the blood cauldron do you want to stay here so damn bad?"

"Because he has a reason to bring down that wall, and I'm the only person stopping him."

~*~ discidium~*~

Feyre, to my greatest delight, was the first to meet me in the training room only hours later. The shining rays were barely leaking into the training room window and yet I hadn't gotten an hour of sleep. For hours, I had been recounting what had happened with her, how to get her out, how to win this. After pacing in my bedroom for majority of the morning, I went to the training room a few hours early, dying to know if she was okay but knowing that I wouldn't be able to check. I even considered waking up Azriel to spy on them, but he would never understand why I left her back in their room in the first place. It had took her tooth and nail to get me out of Tamlin's bedroom, to leave her there alone with him again, leaving my _mate_ , and I hated myself for walking away. But, while I hated it, she believed she was right. She truly believed that Tamlin wanted that wall gone, and that her existence was the only thing stopping him. And, trust me, if I hadn't experienced kidnapping her before, I may have just done it.

When she walked in, I scanned her body once more. Looking for any previous marks, any bruises, any scrapes. Thankfully, there was nothing to find but my eyes still didn't leave her body. _If he ever touched her again_ …

"Does he remember anything?" I asked, my voice hollow. She was about six feet away from me and while I would've normally strode towards her already, I knew she needed space.

"No," she said, with a slight bite, "He doesn't remember anything. I told him he went to sleep right after we got into bed." My jaw clenched. My eyes were still scanning her when I had remembered the punctured wound on her neck. Suddenly, I was tracing back in my thoughts, trying to remember the look on her face when I pinpointed it out. Now that I knew that she had no intention in being sexually intimate, where did that puncture wound come from? It wasn't a hickey.

"Whatever he is planning, Feyre, I can stop him," I said, my hands clenching together. "You don't have to stay here." But she was like a brick wall. My words didn't mean anything to her, even if I thoroughly meant it.

"He has reasons to go past that wall," Feyre said again, "And my existence is the only thing stopping him." My lips snarled back and I took a lethal step towards her.

"I will kill him," I swore, "I'll kill him, Feyre. Just give me the word and I will. I don't care why he wants that wall down or what power he has to do it." But her face hardened, almost defensively.

"He's the High Lord of Spring! I know you love dehumanizing him, but he isn't just some warlord. He has real power that has global consequences."

"Damn the consequences!"

"Why do you-" Before she could finish her sentence, I saw the red fluff of hair in the doorway. My face shifted immediately.

"Ah, and the leprechaun has finally joined us," I crooned. Lucien stepped into the light fully and I couldn't help but hate him too. Did he hear her screams? Would he care if he knew Tamlin raped her? Was he truly as useless as I believed?

"Hello, Feyre," Lucien drawled. When Lucien locked eyes with her, she turned away coolly. His eyebrows furrowed down a bit, but then disgust filled his face he looked at me. I, without thinking about it, took a lethal step towards Lucien, making sure I was in front of Feyre.

"I can't believe Tamlin let you in here," Lucien growled. I gave him a smirk.

"I can't believe you actually tricked that poor, helpless girl into loving you," I said back. He bared his teeth and growled at me but I cracked a smile.

"Don't you _dare_ -"

"Of course, she didn't have much of a choice did she? If she didn't, your High Lord would have killed her without a blink of the eye." _Go on. Fight me. I dare you._

"I'd suggest you shut it-" I hated him. Just for being associated with Tamlin, I hated him.

"Have you even bothered to tell her about your previous lover, Lucien? About how you _let_ her die?" Within a second, he was three feet away from me. A wide smile spread across my face, feeling the adrenaline of a warrior pump through my body. I wanted him to hit me, just so that I would have an excuse to cease his pitiful existence.

"Rhysand!" I whipped my head around towards Feyre, her hands on her hips and her face flushed with redness. "And here I thought you actually wanted to _train_ me." My smile, cruel and deadly, faltered as I looked at Feyre.

"Maybe if you taught your dog to not be so unbearably existent," I said, eyeing Lucien, "then I wouldn't have so much trouble doing so." But she merely huffed.

"I made a promise to be here for Tamlin," Lucien seethed. "Don't let yourself think I'm here to amuse you."

"Then teach me!" Feyre screeched. We both turned to her again. At first I smirked, thinking she was just talking to Lucien, but then I realized that she was talking to me as well. "Instead of standing around trying to measure each other's manliness, teach me!" While she looked at both of us I could have sworn she held my gaze longer.

"Fine," Lucien said stiffly, giving me a hard glance before stepping towards her. For a split second, she rocked back on her heels as if the fear of him touching her would be undying, but she held her stance again.

"You're standing wrong," Lucien said, softly. I watched as he began directing her, but all I noticed how her eyes danced from his hands to his body, as he gripped her and pushing her weight in different directions. It had probably gone on for fifteen minutes before I cleared my throat.

"Surely you could teach her without feeling her up, Lucien," I chimed. He stepped away from her, cocking his head in disgust.

"Alright, then," he sneered, "How else am I supposed to teach her without touching her?" I swallowed. Because, honestly, he had a point. But I turned back to Feyre's gaze, which was filled with relief and maybe even thankfulness.

"You are a mountain," I told her, holding her gaze strongly. "Nobody, _nobody_ , can move you unless you want them to. Your body – as scrawny as it may be – is unmovable, even against someone like me, as long as you want it to be. Pretend someone is going at you, Feyre, someone strong. Someone you fear. And then believe that they can't knock you down, because you are stronger." At first she was confused. Lucien was looking at me like I delirious, but then she closed her eyes. She imagined it – her being a mountain, and being unstoppable. And then her legs started to shift, almost unconsciously, going into the right position. Because standing strong is something people forget.

"Well, uh, you got that done," Lucien said, with a hint of disappointment, glancing at how her body was in the absolute perfect position. She opened her eyes, looking at her feet, her slightly crouched knees, feeling her unbendable back.

"But I don't-" But then a firm look layered over her face. Strength.

"Because you are strong," I interrupted her. "You just have to believe it."

 ** _This was an intense chapter, so I'm stopping the chapter here. PLEASE, IF YOU WANT MORE, REVIEW. I didn't really get any reviews on my last chapter, so I'm not exactly sure if anybody is planning on reading this, but if you do, review. Please review. Please._**

 ** _Also, sorry for the errors._**


	7. Chapter 7

"Was she bleeding?" Mor was the first one to speak. I was pacing in circles in my room frantically, leaving black circles on the floor as I panted and heaved. After the story poured out of my mouth like puke, I was left with nothing but dread and dishonor. After Mor's question though, I halted.

"Bleeding?" I choked out, as if the word physically hurt me. Mor casted Azriel a grim look before looking back at me.

"Sometimes after someone is…" She paused for a moment, letting me take in each word carefully, "raped, they can be left with injuries. Sometimes they can bleed or have tears." My hands flew to my hair, pulling at it and soon began pacing in my black circles again.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" My voice rose. "I didn't even think about that! How could I not think about that? He raped her and all I bloody thought about was the marks on her arms. What kind've horrible mate-"

"You're not horrible," Azriel's chilling voice interrupted. My eyes shot to him. I could see in his eyes that he was worried about me – that he knew I wasn't okay. And maybe that was why he was standing at a distance, watching both Mor and I. We were both so breakable, while he had broken centuries ago. "It's too late to dwell on those memories, Rhys. Now we need to figure out why she won't leave him. Is it love?" I shook my head fast.

"Not love," I said. "She told me that Tamlin had a reason to get over the wall and that she was the only reason he hadn't already. I tried convincing her otherwise, pleaded, but she wouldn't listen." Azriel's arms, which were crossed tightly against his chest, loosened.

"Surely she knows that we are the strongest kingdom thus far?" He asked, almost defensively. "She has no reason to worry. She has no reason to stay here." Mor let out a sound of protest. I whipped my head towards her fast, eyeing her. She was staring out the window, as if searching for something she couldn't entirely reach. I knew this would be a sensitive topic to her, as she had been violated just as bad, just in a different way. There was a small part of me that almost hesitated to even tell her.

"She has plenty of reason to stay here," Mor argued. I stopped pacing and took a dangerous step towards her.

" _Excuse me_?"

"If she leaves, Tamlin wins," She said, not even wincing as black smoke rose from my shoulders. "If she leaves, she gives up everything that she has to destroy him." At first my eyes were wide, reflecting the black flames that now were dying to shoot from my fingers, but then I felt my stomach lurch. I took a staggering step back, my hand to my stomach, to where the string that attached me and Feyre ached.

"This is all my fault. I could've lived without her, you know-I could've watched her love Tamlin for eternity. If I hadn't taken her, if I hadn't let my selfishness consume me, Tamlin wouldn't have gone insane. She would've been safe. She would've been happy," I breathed. Mor took a step towards me, her hand already out, but then I felt a firm hand clamp onto my shoulder. I twisted around to face Azriel.

"Tamlin is a rapist. A _rapist_ , Rhys. And not because he was sex hungry. The moment he felt vulnerable, he lashed out on her and took the one thing that could make a woman fall apart. Sane or not, he is too weak for her. He would've destroyed her in the end," Azriel said. I then nodded slowly, because he was right. Tamlin, even if my efforts did nothing, would never be able to handle her strength.

"So that's that," Mor said, her voice leaking with anxiety. "We're going to take her away, right? Hell or high water." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Maybe even a demand. Somewhere along the lines, she had become attached to Feyre. Maybe it's because she saw something in her that reminded her of herself, or maybe because she truly liked her, but when she saw me and Azriel hesitate, she growled.

"She is your mate," Mor reminded me. "Your mate. And that man – that disgusting piece of trash - hurt her! Do not look me in the eyes and tell me you aren't going to do something."

"It's not that easy, Mor," I growled back. "Remember that one time I kidnapped her and it basically back fired in my face?" She shook her head, disgust filling her face.

"He raped her," Mor hissed. "Raped her. Get her out! Get her out before I do!" My teeth grinded together impatiently.

"You don't think I want to do that?" I snapped. "You think I like that Tamlin abused her? That he did what Amarantha did to me? That she may never see herself the same again? Do you think I like this?" Her face, filled with anger and despise, faltered.

"I can kill him," Azriel offered. "Cut him up in tiny-itsy-bitsy pieces and nobody will ever find him. You won't ever have to take the blame." When he said it, he glanced at Mor quickly, as if trying to see if she approved. She was too angry to even meet eyes at either of us.

"No," I shook my head, my upper-lip curling. "If anyone is going to kill him, it's me." And Azriel looked at me as if a rock had hit head and gave him a realization that could possibly change our entire future. I meant it and he knew it. I couldn't tell if he agreed or disagreed, but he didn't object.

"You almost killed him last night, didn't you?" Azriel said, his voice neutral but stern. I swallowed, but I held my head high. Even if he couldn't read my thoughts directly, he still knew what was going inside my head.

"I only had enough time for one of my two options: kill Tamlin or get Feyre the hell out of there," I said, my voice filled with disgust. "And I guess by the time she declined my offer to get her out, it was too late to end his pitiful, ungrateful life." Thankfully, when I met eyes with them, neither of them disagreed. Neither of them argued.

"So what's the plan then?" Azriel asked.

"I _will_ get her out of here," I promised them. "But I need her to trust me more. I can tell she already does a little bit – she's learned a lot in training. How to stand, how to throw a knife, how to approach an opponent. And to learn that much from someone in one day means that she…she _has_ to trust me a little bit. Until then…"

"It's Feyre's way," Mor added grimly.

~*~ discidium ~*~

I couldn't find an excuse to skip lunch. I had instructed Mor and Azriel to scout the house again, spy on some servants and hopefully discover some areas that may contain the secrets that Feyre was talking about, but I knew I couldn't go with them. If Tamlin had any brains at all, he would've told every servant to look after me. So, really, in the end, I found myself laying in my bed uselessly, staring at the ceiling and trying to think of a sorry excuse to not see Tamlin's disgusting face. That I was tired, that I was sick, that I hated every single last bit of them, but though I was the master of orchestrating lies, I couldn't stomach the idea of letting her eat lunch with him alone. Even if I had to struggle every second from killing him in his own dining room, I couldn't leave her like that. Not alone. Not with Tamlin.

Given that, I was five minutes late for the extravagant meal and everybody was already seated. When I strutted in, everybody's eyes jerked up towards me fearfully, probably assuming that I was going to make it their last meal. Like before, Nesta was at the head of the table, but she looked happier. She was cleaned up, her hair glistening in curls, and clothes far better than she could possibly imagine was now on her back. Elain was wearing a simple, prudish gown and seated next to Lucien, leaning towards him too close to being friendly. And Feyre – my dear Feyre. She wearing a ghastly gown, so large that it oozed out of the chair and dipped out onto the floor. It covered as much skin as it could possibly hold – from her neck to her wrists. It wasn't a coincidence that I couldn't see any of her marks. That bastard, Tamlin, was seated next to her.

I eyed Feyre carefully, looking to see if, even though her skin was hidden, I could sense any more injuries. But nothing seemed any different, aside from the unreadable look in her eyes. I did notice though that she was seated as far away from Tamlin as she possibly could without him realizing it. As I sat down, the table was filled with loud, uncomfortable silence. Clearly, they didn't expect my arrival. I tried to brush away from Tamlin's gaze, because if not I may just have killed him. I wanted to melt his brain, burn him, make him suffer a thousand times than Feyre did.

"Are you going to a ball tonight, Feyre?" I said, eyeing her disgustingly colorful and humongous gown. "Oh, let me guess the theme! Is it Tamlin's personality?" Her eyes narrowed at me. I couldn't help but smirk playfully. _It's supposed to be funny,_ I wanted to say.

"Some of us like to be cultured at meals," Tamlin muttered. My eyes whipped towards him, the anger in me spinning me so roughly just by the sound of his voice that my fingers began to tremble.

"You are the one uncultured," I snarled back harshly, black shadows beaming around me as I glared at him up and down. Tamlin's eyebrows flickered up in surprise, and the fork of mashed potatoes that was aiming for his mouth froze. He expected a backlash, but nothing filled with such hatred and despise.

"You didn't curse the food again, did you, Tamlin?" I continued, unraveling a napkin and cutting off a sliver of meat. "Because trying such an elementary stunt again isn't clever, it's just tasteless." I heard Tamlin take in a deep breath, as if willing himself to calm down.

"Can't you just give him the benefit of the doubt for tricking you?" Tamlin's lackey bursted. My eyes flickered up at him, Elain quickly gripping his arm as if to tell him to stop.

"I will as soon as you admit that you are nothing more than Tamlin's pathetic whipping boy," I shot back, reflecting a cold smile.

"You dare-"

"If you'd like to prove me wrong, you are more than welcome to join Feyre and I tonight for training. We are in need of a target after all." Lucien gripped his knife, as if a butter knife could even leave a scratch on me, but Tamlin interrupted us.

"Actually, in fact, Feyre can't make the training sessions tonight," Tamlin interrupted. My eyes shot towards him, my stare burning.

"Hell she's not!" I bursted, without even taking a breath. A small sliver of the anger inside me slipped out. "I swear to the cauldron, if she's not in there tonight without a valid, considerable excuse, I will burn your entire estate into black ashes!" He didn't even waver. While it may have seemed like an empty promise, I knew he could sense my sincerity. He had pushed my patience too far lately, and I only needed one more reason to cease his existence. Everybody was quiet, still as stone. Except Feyre.

"Actually, I _am_ going to a ball tonight. Just not in this," Feyre said, her eyes flickering down at the hideous gown. I blinked at her stupidly, her words ringing in my head twice before I could even take a breath.

"A ball? A ball _ball_?" She had to be joking. Shitting with me. But she looked entirely, hundred percent serious.

"What other kind've ball would I be talking about?"

"Like, a ball with brainless politicians and wretched dancing and spiked drinks?" At this point, if she was actually serious, she was probably remembering Under the Mountain, but my heartbeat was running fast and I couldn't hide the wave of ecstasy that filled my body. A _ball._ It was the perfect plan to get her out of here. Any royal ball was filled with hundreds, maybe thousands, of everything from rich lords to commoners. There was no way that Tamlin could keep track of her, unless he decided to chain her to him but that wouldn't give the right impression to his people.

"Feyre-darling, pinch me. I think I'm dreaming."  
"Oh, please. Like I would ever bother being a part of your dreams!"

"A _ball_ ," I said, ignoring her retort, and a smile spread wide across my face. My eyes, jittery with joy, landed on Tamlin. "Why the hell would you ever host a ball with the High Lord of the Night Court in your estate? Do you always forget to use your brain before arranging ceremonies?" His face was swelled with redness, but he barely even met eyes with me.

"I couldn't cancel it," he mumbled, half in shame and half in anger. Within a second, I was roaring in laughter. My laughter was twice as powerful as Tamlin's roars, with chairs splintering and the chandeliers ringing above us dangerously. Tamlin gritted his teeth as I let out my bellows.

"Oh my cauldron, you may just be able to kill me after all, Tamlin," I said, wiping my eyes from the laughter, "That's great. That's hilarious, actually. The one time you have to host a party, the High Lord of Night is just conveniently already in your household. At least now I don't have to worry about arriving without an invitation." He gritted his teeth angrily.

"And what is the occasion?" I pestered, my smile never dying. "Humor me." He took a deep breath before continuing.

"My lords demand a ball in honor of the Court of Spring's victory," Tamlin told me evenly, "It's a tradition." My smile died instantly, a darkness filling my body as his words echoed against my bones.

"The _Court of Spring's_ victory?" I spat, anger overcoming me once more. "You mean Feyre's victory? Last time I checked you spent those three months sitting on your ass." And maybe I should have kept it in, but it was only a sliver of the anger that was boiling inside.  
"Feyre is a member of the Court of Spring," Tamlin said defensively. "And I didn't sit on my ass. I went through just as much pain as-"

"Of course you did," I cut him off quickly. "Now, can I bring a date-"

"You," Tamlin said slowly, his index finger pointing at me, "Are not invited." I leaned back in my chair, tilting my head at him.

"So I'm just expected to live in your depressing house, listen to your dull conversations, and eat your mediocre food without any bit of complaining, but I can't even get some party food and mingle? I'm offended!" I said dramatically.

"Yes," he said sourly. I threw my hands in the air.

"What the hell am I supposed to do then? Sit in my room and count to a thousand?"

"Cauldron knows you'll do whatever you want anyways, Rhysand," he said, his voice leaking with defeat. "Just stay out of my party."

"I don't hear you saying please."

" _Please_."

~*~ discidium~*~

Of course I didn't plan on staying out of his party. It was laughable that he even believed that it was a possibility. Immediately after the lunch had ended, I raced up the stairs to find Mor and Azriel. Coincidentally, they were both in Azriel's room, sprawled out onto the bed, with only a foot between them. They were talking, but the moment I walked in their voices stopped. Mor jumped from the bed quickly, bouncing up on her feet with light filling her face.

"You look happy," she deducted, worry in her voice, "Why do you look so happy?" And so then I spilled, telling them about the ball as I pranced around the room, leaving a trail of sparkly blackness. Both of them looked at me in silent astonishment as I laughed at Tamlin's horrible situation.

"He is having a ball?" Mor asked, after waiting patiently for my happiness to slow down. I nodded happily.

"Isn't this a bit…suspicious?" Azriel added. My smile dropped, eyeing him.

"You know, it's always the worst feeling in the world when I'm happy and then you decide to be a debby-downer and ruin the mood off your suspicions," I said. But the words didn't even register in him.

"Amarantha is dead, we just conveniently infiltrated the Spring Court, Tamlin thereby hates us, and now his people are 'forcing' him to have a ball and he's just going along with it?" Azriel repeated back to me. "Rhys, that _is_ suspicious."

"Actually," Mor argued, "it isn't that suspicious. Cassian sent a letter saying that there's been huge celebrations at every court, like some infectious disease. I feel like the High Lords are only having these parties just to gloat to the world how well they're doing. There's supposed to be _many_ powerful people at these balls." My face twisted.

"I wouldn't be surprised either way," I muttered. "This world is filled with greedy bastards who want to destroy each other. But we don't have much of a choice anyways, do we?"

For the first time in my life, I didn't want to stand out. Usually I wore a coal-black tunic with silver and gold linings, so dark that it made commoners shiver. My pants were normally made out of the best material in the world, causing mouths to open and envy fill people's eyes. My fashion, even when I was the most vulnerable, had always been on spot. And especially at a ball, where my foes and competitors would be seeing me, I wanted to stick out the most. But I knew that tonight, I couldn't do that. I had to, in the simplest way, be invisible.

So, I wore a dark purple tunic, silk but nothing that would catch someone's eye. The collar plunged deep, revealing a portion of my torso. My pants were plain black, a typical material for a typical High Lord. With my daring good looks, it was the best I could do.

I waited for the sun to go down before leaving my room, knowing that the ball had already started and Tamlin was already too mixed into the ball to watch for me. I inched down the hall silently, stopping at Azriel's door.

"Are you-" I opened the door and I nearly closed it. Azriel and Mor weren't embraced – they weren't even intertwined, but when I opened the door they were laying upon the bed, clothes still on, only inches apart. There was no touching, no hint that they were about to do something, but I knew I interrupted something.

"Oh, Rhysand!" Mor gasped, almost a bit nervously. She bounced up, twisting in her plain dark dress. She looked amazing, of course, but it was good enough that people wouldn't notice her automatically. Azriel matched her, just a plain dark tunic and pants. I looked between them, both of them flustered.

"I was just," I stumbled on my words, "just leaving. I'm going downstairs. But I should…" I looked between them, trying to understand their very odd relationship. "Probably go in first though, so take your time." Before they could argue, I left the room, shutting the door with a slight bang. Flustered and shaking my head, I descended the stairs, cursing them. By the time I got to the main floor I could already hear the music, blaring and interrupting my thoughts. I continued to descend the stairs though in a hurried manner, until I got to the floor I knew the ballroom was held.

"If only they could just-" But then I saw her. Feyre had turned around with a gasp just as I hit the last step. I opened my mouth then closed it. She looked absolutely dreadful – she wore a dark orange dress, as puffy as a pastry and made her arms stick out awkwardly. It covered her neck to toe, with matching orange gloves. Clearly to hide the tattoo.

"You look festive," I said carefully, eyeing her. She fumed, shooting me a vulgar finger. I laughed to myself.

"Aren't you supposed to be hiding in your room and counting to a thousand?" She spat back. I smirked.

"I don't follow orders," I said, growing closer to her, "Especially not from Tamlin." She looked at me hard for a moment, like she was close to spurring out something angry, but she merely let out a groan and began twisting in a circle, pacing in front of the closed double doors.

"I have to ask," I said, beckoning to her dress, "Did you actually pick that out or-"

"It's pretty," she snapped, her face filled with redness. I laughed.

"Pretty? _Pretty_?" I asked. "You look like a fucking pumpkin." Though she scowled, I saw how she tried suppressing the smile on her lips.

"Okay, so maybe I didn't pick it out," she admitted, rolling her eyes, "But, it could be worse." My hands folded into my pockets as I eyed it again.

"I beg to differ," I said, starting to circle her as she froze. "I thought that dress earlier was ugly, but this-"

"I didn't have a choice, alright?" She growled. I blinked at her rapidly.

"Tamlin's idea, am I correct?" I asked. She frowned.

"Ianthe," she corrected, though it meant the same exact thing to me.

"Well, in that case, since you apparently don't mind other people dressing you like a doll, let me add my own touch."

Before she could open her mouth, I waved my hand and a black mist swirled around her. I heard a yelp as she disappeared into the blackness, but a second later I waved my hand again and the blackness tunneled away. She stumbled once or twice before she almost fell face-first, in which I quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her up.

"What did you-" But then she stopped. Her eyes dropped down to a dark red dress that was now draped around her, sinking to the floor and leaving a small train. It was thin, like newly-woven silk that fell across her body in such a way that made my breath catch. Unlike the ugly dress Tamlin had trapped her in, this one wasn't afraid to show her curves, flaunting her natural shape in an elegant manner. No, it wasn't like the provocative outfit that I had forced her in Under the Mountain, but it held the same daringness. The boldness. Unlike the other dress, this one was sleeveless. There was nothing to hide her scars and bruises, but it decorated her body in such a way that it was admirable. Beautiful. On top of that, I untied the uncomfortable knot that stuck up on top of her head, letting it bounce down in curls against her scarred shoulders.

"But my scars…" She said, her eyes draping across her bare arms. She bit her lip.

"Where them proudly," I instructed. "They are what made you into a hero." Her eyes, deep and serious, were fixated on them, as if trying to decide if she was even a hero at all, but she didn't argue.

"And _those_ ," I said, yanking off her gawky gloves and tearing them away from her grasp, "Have got to go."

"No, I-" But before she could say anything more, they disappeared into thin air. She let out a defeated sigh as she looked at the air longingly. After a moment of gaping and giving me a snarl, she looked down at her hands. A part of me was afraid that maybe she was embarrassed by the tattoo – that maybe I should've at least left her with one thing to hide her past. But then her back straightened.

"I feel…" She said, her chest heaving, "Free. I feel free." Her eyes gazed up at me, looking at me just like she had the moment I was meant to say goodbye to her. Like I was worth something. I gave her a small smile, a genuine smile.

"Good," I said, "And now, I think it's time for you to go. Your dear Tamlin and seven hundred of his closest friends are waiting for you." I eyed the door and instantly her composure shrank.

"You aren't going to go before me?" She asked hesitantly. I shrugged, stepping in front of her.

"If you wish-"

"No, wait!" Her anxious plead made me turn around, looking at her with just as much desperation as she had.

"Yes?" I heard myself ask, softer than I have ever spoken. Her eyes were filled with anxiety, looking at the door, and then I realized that maybe I wasn't a lost cause. If she'd rather be with me, alone, looking beautiful in a dress that could make a whole room stop breathing, than maybe there was a chance.

"He took everything I had," she said, her voice choking with anger.

My eyes gleamed, "Not everything." With our gazes stuck on each other, I held out my arm.

"Together then?" I asked. She gave me a slight smile.

"Together," she agreed, and while our arms only hooked for just a second, just to open the doors, it felt like I was finally whole. Like, just by her touch, every ounce of pain and misery that has ever exploded in me in the last five centuries was gone. I didn't stop looking into her eyes until she took a step into the ballroom. Without a word spoken, she unhooked away from me, disappearing into the crowd of hundreds of people. I watched as she whisked away, with a ripple of faces turning around and looking at her with awe. Scanning her body, staring at her scars, acknowledging her unusual beauty.

While the distraction was there, I disappeared into the opposite side of the crowd, pulling in my dark aura so that people wouldn't look at me. I was halfway into the heart of the ballroom when I found myself turning around. A thousand people away, I saw Tamlin spitting words at her fast. Her eyes were cast down for a moment, her shoulders slumped forward, but then she looked up at him and straightened. She said something to him, making him flinch. He tried reaching for her, pushing her back towards the door, but she tugged away from his grip.

Smiling to myself, I continued to weave into the crowd, slyly pushing past people and manipulating their minds into not registering my existence. The last thing I needed was for this ball to center around me. When I made it to an area that Mor and Azriel could find me, the refreshments bar, I grabbed a cold cup of punch. But right as it was about to hit my lips, a familiar voice interrupted me.

"She is quite the woman." I whipped around quickly. He was as I remembered – completely and utterly dazzling, even in the worst of conditions. Not short but not tall, a warm look that brightened his deeply tanned face, with white hair sweeping across his forehead elegantly. His eyes, so brightly blue and green that it almost seemed unreal, twinkled at me. But I didn't smile.

"What do I owe the pleasure, Tarquin? Aren't you busy enough repairing your own home, let alone entertaining Tamlin's?" He didn't even blink.

"We are a neutral kingdom," He said, his smile not quite meeting his eyes. "But, between me and you, you are the reason I bothered to travel so far." The drink in my hand suddenly felt very, very cold.

"People are already talking about me arriving at Tamlin's court?" I said, one eyebrow perched up. "I forget how fast fear spreads even when kingdoms are thousands of miles apart."

"Yes, well, it doesn't give the best of vibes when you hear of a high lord going to another high lord's court," Tarquin said, clearing his throat a bit, "And I'm assuming even if I did ask why you were here, you would lie." I gave him a shrug.

"I guess that makes us alike," I said, though my voice was far from crossed. Maybe it was because I knew some secrets of his own, secrets that could've murdered him, but I respected him. Though he claimed his kingdom was neutral, we both knew that his neutrality, his secrets, only made him stronger.

"I wouldn't doubt that," Tarquin agreed. My eyes flickered at him, eyeing him.

"Yes," I agreed stiffly, "So that only makes me wonder more. What makes you come to me?" His eyes fell away from me, turning his head to look back at Feyre. She was beaming, smiling. Tamlin was off at a distance, talking to some politicians, but his eyes kept wandering towards her cautiously.

"I have spies in Tamlin's court," he said bluntly. My eyes widened for just a moment. My gaze tossed around, making sure nobody had heard us, but my powers were everlasting – two of the most powerful people in the world, and yet nobody even glanced at us.

"Brilliant," I said, letting out a light chuckle. "Actually, truly brilliant. Most leaders wouldn't have the balls to take that initiative right after recovering from Amarantha, let alone the one lord who swore to _neutrality_. Tell me, do you have spies at my court too?" He had a smug look on his face.

"Couldn't get past your barriers if I tried, Rhysand," he admitted, "but I do know about your, ah, predicament with Tamlin." I swirled my cup of punch. While the hair on the back of my neck had begun to prickle up, I didn't have much to hide here. But elsewhere? If he knew my secrets, he had me by the balls.

"And?" I asked, my voice growing cold. "Unless you're up to destroying his entire kingdom with me, I'm not really interested in your input."

"Unfortunately for you, I have no interest in _destroying_ the Spring Court," he told me, "But I do have interest in Feyre Cursebreaker." And then just like that, I felt like I couldn't breathe. The tone in his voice – the coolness, the determination. My grip on my cup was so tight that it cracked.

"I don't want you as my enemy, Tarquin," I hissed, "But if you even try touching her, I'll destroy you." To my surprise, he didn't shudder. He didn't even get mad. Instead he licked his lips, staring at Feyre again.

"Far from it," he said, "Our world is filled with corrupted leaders that will only cause war and destruction. Amarantha might be dead, but people like her will never stop if they have power."

"I have very little interest in what happens outside of my court," I said simply. He tilted his head.

"But you have interest in her," he noted, "And I think you're a good person. And I think she is even better. Do you want to know the truth? I think you want to wed her. I think you'll destroy Tamlin just to have her. I watched as you came at Amarantha with a knife when Feyre's neck cracked, and you knew that was suicide." I didn't respond.

"She would make a great lady, no doubt. But what if she was more than that, Rhysand? What if she was more than just a wife? What if we were able to conquer Tamlin, and make her the High Lord – or should I say, _High Lady of the Spring Court_ without Tamlin by her side?"

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	8. Chapter 8

I had never seen Tarquin so differently – so filled with determination, passion. Maybe even madness. In truth, I had always underestimated him. I never thought he would even be alive long enough to create his first heir. But as I looked at him now, analyzing him, I could tell he had grown. There was no longer fear in his eyes or instability of his reign. His youth that had once been his biggest flaw but now seemed to be his greatest advantage. It had been a while since I had met a Lord who had dreamed so large, who dreams as wildly as I do, and now I knew how other Lords felt. Wary if not threatened. People who dream the most are the ones who become the most legendary lords. The feared.

"Under the Mountain has ate out your brain cells and you are now trying to fight a battle that no longer exists. Go home, my friend." I was about to turn away, but then he let out a mirthless laugh.

"I think you know I am right," Tarquin countered. "I think you know there's more threats and I think you wouldn't be at Tamlin's court if you believed that Feyre was safe here." My knuckles turned into firm balls and my nose flared when I turned my head towards him.

"I _think_ that you're talking to the wrong person and if you walk away right now then I'll pretend this conversation never happened." Tarquin took a step towards me - a dangerous, dangerous step. My body straightened, looking down at him.

"Your reign has been short, Tarquin. You don't want to compromise that," I warned with a silky voice, my eyes blazing.

"It will be compromised anyways if our entire world falls apart," he said, and there was a part of me that grudgingly agreed. While he had only been alive for a little over half a century, I had been alive for a little over half of a millennium, and I knew that power was a disease. A lot of people craved it and very few could actually handle it. But it wasn't a war that I willing to fight right now.

"If you're going to put your energy into someone, don't put it into Tamlin," I advised, Hypbern burning into the back of my brain. "There are worse people."

"And, with Tamlin gone and Feyre to replace him will begin a new era," Tarquin said. I rolled my eyes dramatically. "An era of peace. Of strong, tranquil leaders who will make Prythian one." My eyes dragged towards the beautiful woman in the dark red dress, who now looked uncomfortable and out of place next to the people that called themselves members of the Spring Court. While she would no doubt be a queen of _something_ one day, whether it was next year or in five hundred years, I couldn't see her ruling the Court of Spring.

Or maybe I could. Maybe I could see her conquering Tamlin, as he was no longer fit to be a High Lord. Maybe I could see her replacing every damn member of the Spring Court and revolutionizing it to the point where it made the continent whole. No matter how dull and absolutely boring this court was, it was still her home at one point. She still looked at these green grasses and wondered if she could ever be happy here again. She still had, even if it was only a little bit, longingness for what her life once was before Amarantha had ruined it. She was just about arrogant enough to pull it off.

"Maybe I'll consider speaking to her," I told Tarquin, though my voice drawled with empty promises. "If our beautiful savior ever shows any actual signs of true leadership. As of now, she is merely a cast of a girl who once was, slaving in our host's bed." And though it was simplified, maybe even a complete lie, Tarquin's face shattered for a moment. Just long enough for me to breathe. Because I didn't need this. I didn't need to worry about Tarquin infiltrating her thoughts right now. Not when Hypbern was lurking, Tamlin was causing problem after problem, and trying to tame the dangerous feelings I had for her. Not when we were all so vulnerable.

"But surely you saw how she handled Amarantha," Tarquin said, and I heard the desperation in his voice. "You were there-"

"And I no longer care," I hissed, shoving my cup of punch in his trembling hands as he blinked at me rapidly. "It was a pleasure seeing you, Tarquin."

~*~ discidium~*~

I took three or four laps around the ballroom before I felt Tarquin's gaze fall away from me. While I was flattered by Tarquin's desire to travel so far for me, I wasn't keen to stay in Tamlin's hellhole much longer. I was yet to run into Azriel and Mor, but I did see a number of familiar figures as I passed by – the High Lord of Winter, the Prince of Dawn, and a number of high ranked daughters hoping to finally be married off after fifty years of waiting. Why had Tamlin insisted on inviting every damn idiot in Prythian? I had no idea. But it was time for me to leave and to leave _silently._

Of course, there was a few complications with this. Firstly, there was a _how_. From what I could see, there was one door for servants hidden in the opposite side of the ball room and the two double doors facing the crowd. Obviously, leaving from the two double doors was absolutely idiotic, unless I was willing to do one of my infamous exits. And while the servant's door seemed a little less chaotic, it was practically a trap. Not only were there at least forty servants on the opposite side but I was sure that there would be a few guards as well. I could winnow out of course, but I would have to put all my power into it. I could no longer hold the invisible barrier that I was keeping up in order for others to not see me while at the same time winnowing out. They would notice. Contrastingly, I could do the exact opposite. There was five windows – large with handles that could make them swing open. I could always maximize the barrier, make it so that nobody would even register what was going on behind them, open up one of the window doors, toss all of us out of it and then winnow back home. But there was always the question on how far I can take my powers, despite my legendary power. Was I capable to make over seven hundred people not look at an entire wall, nor pay attention to the sound of opening and shutting a large glass window? When you use that much power, there are always holes. It was almost too exhausting to risk.

Another issue was Feyre. She simply didn't want to leave and I couldn't force her. It was dangerous here, but she didn't seem to care. I didn't know what she wanted – revenge, closure, a new story to tell. And I doubted taking her back to my home would help her achieve any of those. I had watched with my own eyes as Tamlin broke her and while she seemed okay now, I knew it wouldn't last forever. And yet, there was a piece of my own selfishness. I was a being with feelings and thoughts and flaws just like any other being, and I didn't know how long I could watch her stay here. I didn't know how long I could look past my own feelings without simply losing it and taking her away.

"You're thinking." I turned my body fluidly, hiding the surprise that jolt through me. I faced Feyre – not even hiding the fact that I was looking at her body once more. She looked absolutely stunning, wearing that dark red dress like she was-

"A ruler," I finished aloud, a bad feeling overcoming me and a small groan leaving my lips. All I could think of was Tarquin's stupid smirk, gloating because how he was right. Because even now, everyone in the room could feel the abnormal strength that she bared. The power. It was infuriating, almost a threat. And yet she didn't even know it. Being Tamlin's wife would extinguish the fire that made her who she is.

She looked at me, blinking.

"What?" She demanded. A smile sprawled across my face, hiding the undying dread of what would soon to come.

"Normally, I'm dying to see what hides underneath your clothes," I said, eyeing her as her smile faltered, "But that dress is quite admiring. I wouldn't like you to ever take it off. Mostly because every Prythian keeps glancing at it like it's the most dangerous thing in the room. I must say, it's been a while since I've witnessed hundreds of people be fearful of a piece of cloth."

"I can't exactly thank you." She said sharply, her own eyes looking down at her gown again. "Everybody is looking at me like I'll burn down this entire estate. They look petrified." My eyebrows flickered up.

"It's because they _are_ petrified," I said before I could even stop myself. "You look powerful in it. When you walk around with that gown twisting around you, you look like a queen. A queen who is willing to burn down this entire continent if they piss you off. Why else do you think that Tamlin has been looking at it in disgust?" She rolled her eyes at me dramatically.

"Maybe I should just take over this whole damn court then," she said, her voice more bitter than usual. "If I'm so powerful." My smirk faltered, my eyes twinkling.

"You could do it," I said seriously, my words echoing Tarquin's argument. "Be the ruler of the Spring Court. It wouldn't be that hard. My kingdom, my people, would support you." A spasm went across her face, her arms tightened around her chest even more.

"I don't want to be his Lady," she said under her breath. "I don't want to be anything to him."

"Oh, I didn't mean with him at all," I argued, "He would only bring you down. No, when I say you, I mean _you_." Her mouth opened immediately, choking. She shook her head fast.

"Take it over? Take over Tamlin's court?" She let out, her voiced hushed and her eyes darting around anxiously. "I'm starting to wonder if you're an arrogant ass or just a plain idiot." I let out a small chuckle.

"A dreamer," I corrected. "Not only that, but it would help me with the King Hypbern problem. Tamlin's court is filled with wondrous natural resources that I could use as bargaining chips and weapons, but he'll never let me use them. Not even if I begged."

"Maybe he has good reason to," she sneered, though it was half-heartedly. If anything, it sounded almost friendly.

"Anywho," my voice chimed, "What are you doing over here? Shouldn't you be wooing over leaders and being Tamlin's trophy? If you think being around me will win you popularity, you're wrong."

"Because you're an asshole or because you have zero social skills?"

I gave her a forced smile, showing my sharp teeth and said, "Because they think I kill for sport when really I kill so that I don't have to hear their pathetic whining."

"So both?" She concluded.

"More like a hundred-percent perfect," I said, but then I winked at her and added, "but only when I'm sitting next to you, Feyre-darling." She groaned.

"You're right. I'm better off talking to Ophelia about her fifteen marriage proposals," she grumbled, but I caught her arm before she could walk away.

"But don't you want to hear my plan, Feyre?" I asked, my eyes gleaming. Her body straightened, looking at me accusingly.

"What plan?" She said tightly. My smile widened.

"You see those windows," I said, eyeing them. Her eyes followed my gaze, her face twisted in confusion. "That's how we're going to get out." Her mouth turned into a perfect circle.

"Our way out? Don't you think hundreds of people will notice a gigantic window opening?" She snarled. I shrugged.

"Maybe, except close to no one has noticed me yet because I have my fabulous invisible barrier set up around me," I said to her, "But of course, _you_ of all people would still think the most powerful High Lord to ever exist wouldn't be able to open a window without being caught."

"Then why don't you just go right now if you're so brilliant?"

"I will," I purred, "if only you're willing to come with me." Her face of shock transformed into a defensive glare.

"Oh, you're not going to kidnap me again?" She said, her voice filled with disbelief and a hint of anger. I rolled my eyes.

"That was a thing of my past," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "I don't steal pretty girls anymore. I heard the whole rescuing them thing was more attractive." Her lips pursed.

"I don't need you to rescue me," she hissed. "I'm completely in control of my surroundings."

"Oh yeah," I said, giving a cold laugh. "Because you're gaining so much by staying here. Other than the fact that he's a complete douche, I can show you things that he hasn't even dreamed of. Different lands, different worlds. I won't make you be some pet at my court, I'll give you a position. Maybe even a pinch of power if you show your worth. Isn't that a bit more rewarding than whatever revenge you're plotting?" But her face didn't even twitch. I let out a sigh.

"Look, Feyre," I said, letting out a long breath, "You're immortal now. You have centuries, if not more, to get back at Tamlin. But why waste your time now? Come with me. Let yourself be happy." And for a second I think she considered it. Her glare loosened and her eyes were elsewhere, as if trying to be imagine such a life.

"But-"

"What can I do for you, Feyre?" I said, this time in desperation. "Tell me. Tell me what I can do to convince you." Her eyes, which were once darting around as she thought of the future, latched onto mine so hard that I felt a punch at my gut. The string that kept us together tugged at me, knocking the breath out of me.

"I need time," she said, her eyes hard. " _Time_ , Rhysand. Give me time and maybe…maybe…" I was holding my breath, waiting for her last words.

"Maybe I'll consider it."

"As much as I admire your newly-found wits, we need to leave-"

"Get away from her." I swerved around, meeting eyes with Tamlin. His body had stiffened, the anger building clearly building inside him. His mouth was pressed together tightly and his nose was flared. I then suddenly noticed how utterly quiet the rest of the ballroom was. Slowly, my eyes hawked across the room, realizing that most of the people now had my attention. Lots and lots of eyes. _So much for leaving silently._

"Great barrier you got there," I heard Feyre whisper to me sarcastically, nearly inaudible. "Most powerful High Lord indeed." I ignored her as I stuck my hands in my pockets, inching towards Tamlin.

"I told you that you weren't invited," Tamlin reminded me tightly. My smile grew.

"Unless you're still trying to pretend that Under the Mountain didn't happen," I said, and in my peripheral vision I noticed the entire crowd flinching at once, "It would have been wise to remember that I do _love_ balls."

"You also love torture and cruelty," Tamlin said. "You're bound to my home but you're not bound to my friends and family." My eyes swept the ballroom again, watching as people's eyes shifted to the ground. He could hardly call them family, as they had clearly only come to spy on him.

"If you think a single one of these people have came here to revel in the Spring Court, you're out of your mind, Tamlin," I said. "When has a ball been anything but a political maneuver?" And within an instant, his eyes seemed very far away. And I knew what he was thinking about, what he was grasping for, what memory haunted us both.

 _The ball was a political nightmare. I knew that from the moment I stepped foot in my father's office, him demanding me to, instead of helping him fight his battles and assign me warrior-worthy duties, to plan a ball. It was no doubt a way to punish me, to mock me, but Celine was here. In the castle, as my mother was as well. The last thing I wanted him to do right now was for him to put me in Ultra-Time-Out and lock me in a cabin for a month (because Cauldron knows he's done it before) and make me miss out on seeing her. So instead of grunting about and putting the task onto a servant, I woke Celine up from her bed chambers and we planned the entire thing. She picked the colors, black and wine red. I began writing the guest list, which had consisted in just about everybody my father disliked. Celine warned me that it would piss him off, but he had already pissed me off and if he wanted to assign me duties for a servant than I would make his guest list a living hell._

 _Of course, I didn't realize that was what he wanted until the ball began two weeks later. He knew pissing me off would make me retaliate, whether passive aggressively or not. And not only that but on each invitation I signed it with my name instead of my father's, in attempt to look superior over my father but in the end only looked foolish. Was inviting every insane Son of Autumn really going to make me look bright? My father was nearly beaming over all of his enemies being in the same room. No doubt the only reason they came was because I, instead of my father, invited them. It was foolish. I was a fool._

 _"_ _Celine, dance with me," I heard a voice say, only a good fifteen feet away from me. My head shot to the voice, eyeing the young man who had approached my little sister. She blushed horrendously, and though I was her older brother I couldn't help but smile. I hadn't seen her since she was a child but I wish I had watched her grow up. I was terrified that, even with my mother's protection, that my father would break her. She was still young of course, too young to be married off and used as a weapon to create alliances for my father, but she knew how to make her own choices._

 _"_ _Of-of course," she stumbled, watching my eager expression and letting him pull her out on the dance floor. I watched them attentively as he carefully put his fingers on her hips and another intertwined with her hand. He looked terrified, probably even shakey, but I could see the respect in his eyes. She deserved that._

 _"_ _Get out of my way!" I heard a voice growl. My eyes turned to my side, realizing I had blocked the entry door. The man had brushed against me, probably trying to be push me away far rougher than he actually had. He had barely shoved me an inch. My eyes lowered at him._

 _"_ _Tamlin," I said slowly. "If you touch me one more time, intentionally or not, I will rip out your balls in front of every woman in this ballroom." He looked up at me quickly and at once I knew it was on purpose. I knew who Tamlin was looking at – Celine. It wasn't a secret that he had a bit of a crush on her, as I had invited him here a week early to keep me company. Of course, he wasn't anything compared to Cassian or Azriel but one of the conditions of my father's punishments was that I wasn't allowed to see Cassian or Azriel at all. It was probably his way of isolating me, so instead I invited his arch-enemy's son over._

 _"_ _I don't care," he spat as he tried pushing past me again._

 _"_ _Hey," I said, and it only took one finger on his shoulder to stop the young prince. "I hope you aren't thinking what I can hear you thinking, Tamlin."_

 _"_ _Get out of my way, Rhys," he growled as his fussed away from my grip, though his eyes were glued to the ground. "I don't want to…"_

 _"_ _Hurt me?" I chortled, a smile cracking. "Go back to the ballroom, you nymph-loving moron." But his eyes were filled with such coldness and anger that I couldn't yet contain._

 _"_ _You know I like her," he said, pointing his finger at me. I let out a small chuckle, shrugging my shoulders._

 _"_ _What am I supposed to do? Drag the poor lad by the leg and cut him up into tiny little pieces for nicely asking my sister to dance and then dancing with her modestly? Cauldron, Tamlin. I may be my father's son but I am not a psychotic maniac like one of the Autumn Boys. For instance, look at that red-headed git over there – Lucien, I think his name is. He's been glaring at me this entire night. You should go ask_ him _to dance," I joked, eyeing the angry red head a few people away from us. But Tamlin didn't even crack a smile._

 _"_ _But I want her," Tamlin said longingly, eyeing my beautiful sister. And she was certainly beautiful – she had long dark hair that curled at the ends and eyes as bright as the moon. If my father didn't marry her off soon she would probably cause wars over men wanting her hand._

 _"_ _And who says she wants you?" I said back, my voice growing hard now. "You've hardly talked to her."_

 _"_ _I invited her to train with us."_

 _"_ _And she has said no every single time," I reminded him. "Celine already has a trainer and her own warriors, you know. My father lives for war and fighting, do you really think she doesn't know how to fight simply because she's a girl? Instead of demeaning her and asking if you can teach her to fight, realize that she can kick your ass easily and ask her for help. Or better yet – just ask her to dance."_

 _"_ _Okay," Tamlin breathed, calming down, but then he asked, "Rhys, you're her older brother. Do you think I have a chance?" I shrugged._

 _"_ _To dance? Sure. As long as you don't step on her toes," I said. But he shook his head fast._

 _"_ _My father, he's-he's thinking about finding someone to marry me," Tamlin said. I whirled fully to look at him, my eyes wide._

 _"_ _Someone to marry you?" I said with a laugh, cracking up. "You're not asking me if Celine would-"_

 _"_ _No, no, of course not! But…but hypothetically," Tamlin said. My smile dropped._

 _"_ _Celine won't be marrying anyone anytime soon," I told him sternly, my voice filled with defensiveness. "And if she does, it'll probably be an Illyarian for my mother's sake." But then I analyzed Tamlin. He was still developing, still had the uncontainable anger that any son of a High Lord had in their youth. I knew, despite my mother's approval, my father would want to use Celine as an alliance, but with whom? The Court of Spring did have unlimited resources and had recently flourished with their newly-found gem mines. Their forest was abundant and their economy was relatively stable. Unfortunately, even despite my father's dislike for the High Lord of Spring, it would be a good alliance._

 _"_ _But hypothetically," I said, with a heavy sigh. "Do you intend on being High Lord?" Tamlin's face drained, eyeing his brothers from the other side of the room. They were taunting a young son of Dawn, tugging at him and tripping him._

 _"_ _I-I," he said, watching his brothers, "I really hope not. I really hope I don't become a High Lord." I nodded slowly._

 _"_ _Then maybe years from now, when you are an adult and she is a full woman, you'll have a chance," I said honestly. A light flickered in his eyes, happiness filling his face. I groaned aloud._

 _"_ _Cauldron, I miss my Illyarian friends," I said, as the song that Celine and her mysterious dancer began to end. "You're so sensitive." But Tamlin was too busy watching as Celine walked away from the young boy to even hear my words. Quickly, he raced over, his mouth talking to Celine. Her body straightened, and though she wasn't blushing I saw a certain light in her eyes as well._

"You killed her," I said aloud, Tamlin in front of me again, but in the present. Feyre had her head tilted at me, her eyes a sea of wonder, but I didn't dare look at her. I held Tamlin's stare.

"You killed Celine," I said, my voice cold as ice, and he flinched just by her name. "Simply because you felt vulnerable and your father told you to. The woman you once insisted on marrying. You are weak, Tamlin. Weak and everyone here knows it. That's the only reason people are here. They are just waiting to laugh when your kingdom falls."

"Is that threat?" He let out. I laughed, my voice cold.

"No," I said. "That's an observation. A promise from every other kingdom out there. I got back at you when I made you the High Lord of Spring, Tamlin." I began to turn away, finally catching sight of Azriel and Mor. They were near the entry way both with an emotionless look on their face. I began strutting towards them, people parting away from me desperately as I walked. It wasn't till I was half way out did I notice that there was a struggle behind me. I turned my head over my shoulder.

Tamlin had Feyre by the arm, but she was trying to pull away.

"Get off of me!" Feyre growled, just as cool. He let her arm go as she strutted behind me, following me. But as she walked behind me, and I caught her eyes, I realized why she was following me. Because she had nowhere else to go.

~*~ discidium~*~

"Can I stay in your room?" It was the first thing Feyre had said to me once my friends and I began to walk up the stairs in silence. Mor and Azriel's eyes were on me, watching worriedly as I forced myself to take each and every step. I tried not to think about her – about Celine. If I kept thinking about her then I would probably walk right back into that ballroom and murder every last person in there.

"My room?" We were on the third landing and I had turned to look at Feyre again. She looked overwhelmed – maybe even scared.

"Yes, your room," she snapped. My eyebrows perked up.

"Unfortunately, Feyre-darling, I'm not in the mood for adult entertainment right now," I said. "Maybe lat-"

"I'll sleep on the floor," she said sharply. "I sleep in the goddamn bathtub! I don't care. Just don't…don't make me…" I blinked at her.

"I tried sleeping by myself last night but he beckoned me out of my bed," Feyre said, her eyes somehow still holding onto mine. "I don't want to go through it again." I looked at her up and down, at the broken look on her face. The way her cheek bones were still poking out of her skin and how her arms were abnormally thin.

"I don't like Tamlin's beds. They're made out of goose feathers. You can have the bed for however long you wish," I promised.

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